After a night of drinking too much and unexpectedly announcing my breakup, all I wanted to do was sit around my apartment, drink more, and wallow in self-pity. Unfortunately, having my sister occupying my favorite spot on my couch put a major kink in that plan. So instead of sulking, I decided extra motivation would have to be the cure.
I woke up early, took some Advil with my coffee, and was the first to arrive at the office. This felt simultaneously like a huge win and a massive loss. Add Delilah already stopping by my desk twice to bring up Real Love and Ella texting me every five minutes to ask where something is, and I feel like I’m dangerously close to losing my mind.
I finish up the spreadsheet I’ve been working on and am beginning to text Ella after ignoring her for the last hour when a tap on my shoulder scares the crap out of me.
“Bailey! Fuck! Stop sneaking…” I spin around in my chair and promptly want to die when I don’t see Bailey standing there, but Greg and Marcus, my freaking bosses.
Of course.
“Oh my goodness! I am so, so sorry!” I stand up and then sit down again and then start to stand, like the mortification has caused my brain to misfire and my body doesn’t know how to function anymore. I stay standing this time because my knees are locked and I don’t think I could sit again if I wanted to. “I didn’t mean to say that or scream or…I’m so sorry, I was just startled.”
Kill me now.
My face is so hot that I’m convinced if I were to touch my cheek I’d burn myself. A feeling that only grows when the quiet chuckles of my coworkers nearby penetrate my bubble of embarrassment.
“It’s okay,” Marcus says, amusement clear in his voice. “We’re grown-ups, we’ve heard the word ‘fuck’ before. Plus, Bailey’s running late today.”
I’m sure he said this to make me feel better, but hearing the word out of his mouth just makes this so much worse.
But for real. Somebody please freaking kill me.
My inability to look them in the eye and stop fidgeting must clue Greg in to my total mortification, because he offers much less cringeworthy words of encouragement.
“You’re fine, we’re sorry for startling you.” His apology begins to quiet my nerves. “But would you mind coming to Marcus’s office with us?”
It’s not a lesson I necessarily wanted to learn firsthand, but I now know for a fact that the fastest remedy for embarrassment is fear.
An invitation to the boss’s office can’t be good. I would say this reminds me of being called to the principal’s office when I was a kid, but I was never called to the principal’s office. I’m a rule follower. Remember? This is new, terrifying territory for me.
I nod and follow them through the maze of cubicles and bodies, racking my brain, every worst-case scenario running through my head. They’re probably going to fire me for skipping work to play on a boat with my sister. Maybe I accidentally started daydreaming about lying in the sun, looking at eyes bluer than the ocean and I messed up an account or made a bad investment?
That totally could’ve happened.
It’s inevitable in this profession to lose a shit ton (yes, that’s the technical term) of money at one point or another. It comes with the territory. However, I’m really good at what I do and it’s been a good while since I really blew it. Leave it to me to wait to mess things up right as the position I’ve been dreaming of is finally available.
Can anyone say self-sabotage?
Marcus holds the door to Greg’s office open and gestures for me to enter first after what felt like the longest walk of my life. Since I’m an expert on passive-aggressive behavior, I obviously overanalyze whether they’re being gentlemen or showing dominance. Then I realize that I’m not sure there’s actually a difference between the two. Yay patriarchy.
I take a seat in the chair across from Greg’s desk and barely manage to conceal my wince when the door snaps closed behind me. I’m definitely in trouble. You don’t close the door unless it’s something you don’t want other people to hear…like a stern talking to. Or a firing.
My anxiety is so high I’m starting to feel light-headed.
I tuck my foot behind my ankle to stop it from incessantly tapping and clasp my hands on my lap, wincing when I realize my palms are already sweating profusely. I really need to get it together. Five minutes of stress shouldn’t completely unravel me.
“So.” Marcus sits back in his chair, his hazel eyes shining with kindness and probably sympathy. “How have things been for you lately?”
God.
Small talk.
Are they trying to torture me? Just get to the point already!
“Things have been good. My sister is visiting from out of town, so that’s been…interesting. We are adults, but she’s still my little sister and sometimes I think it’s her mission to piss me off.” I hear the words coming out of my mouth and I know that I don’t want more of them to come, but this is what happens when I’m stressed. It’s word vomit in its truest form and I. Just. Can’t. Stop. Talking. “But you probably don’t want to know about that. Work is going well too, or at least I thought it was, but now I’m here, so maybe it’s not? Delilah and I have been working on the accounts I took over for her while she was gone and I thought that was going well. And then you know about—”
My mouth keeps moving, but thankfully, Greg interrupts me.
“That all sounds…wonderful.” Laughter is thick in his deep voice. “I’m sure it’s nice to spend time with family and you and Delilah are doing a fantastic job. Have you been watching the show with her? This has been the only time my wife’s been even the tiniest bit interested in my work. She says it’s a great season.”
“Your wife is right, it is really good this season.”
If I had to take bets on the last conversation I would ever think to have with my boss, I think it would be this. At least he’s not mentioning the fact that I was offered the lead.
And might be offered it again…
The thought that I’ve actively been trying to ignore barrels its way to the front of my mind at the most inconvenient time ever. I don’t want to think about it. I should say no again. But since Delilah came back, she’s been a different person…a happier person. Now, seeing how content she is, I can’t stop thinking about the offer. If it worked for her, why couldn’t it work for me too?
“There was a guy with chaps who was pretty funny,” Marcus says, pulling me from my thoughts and shocking the living daylights out of me. He does not seem like a person who would watch Real Love. I’m learning the show has a much larger fan base than I originally assumed.
Greg looks at Marcus, shaking his head and finally letting his laughter free.
“Okay then,” Greg says after he’s composed himself. “Now that we got that out of our system, we wanted to talk to you about something…”
Like a well-polished song and dance team, Marcus picks up where Greg trails off. They’re the finance equivalent of Broadway, and their conversation is so well rehearsed that I’m nearly expecting them to break out into a tap dancing number next. “We want you to know that we’ve noticed how hard you’ve worked since you started here. You’re quiet, yet you efficiently and consistently bring in the highest numbers each month. Every client you’ve worked with has given you rave reviews, and you stepped in for Delilah when she left.” He takes a long pause and looks to Greg for a beat. My anxiety skyrockets, knowing the but is coming, waiting for them to drop the bomb. “I’m sure you know that Suzanne’s last day here is quickly approaching and we’ve been looking for her replacement.”
My skin turns electric, every nerve ending buzzing like it’s lined with bees. All thoughts of Real Love, Kai, Ella, and every other distraction that’s plagued me recently fade into oblivion. I lost focus for a bit, but right now my life plan snaps back into my mind’s eye sharper than ever. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
“We wanted to tell you that we’ve narrowed down our contenders to fill Suzanne’s position to three people: Jackson, Leon, and—” He stops talking, channeling his best Ryan Seacrest impersonation and taking way too much joy in stringing me along. “You.”
“Oh my god!” I jump out of the plush seat and run around the desk to hug them both, something I would normally never do…but who cares? I’m going to get my promotion! “Thank you so much! I promise, you will not regret this!”
“You know we haven’t made the final decision yet, right?” Marcus says as he hugs me back.
“I know.” I take a couple of steps back, moving out of their personal space. “But I’m confident I will prove I’m the right person for this job.”
They look at each other again, and this time, without the fear present to distract me from the truth, I see it’s not humor in their eyes, but a knowing. And that just lights the fire under me even more.
They know the job is mine too—and I can’t wait to prove them right.
As soon as I step foot out of Marcus’s office, the foggy haze I’ve been working under lately lifts. When I sit back down at my desk, I do so with an energy I haven’t felt in years. The next few hours fly by and I’m opening a new browser on my computer when Delilah slides into my cubicle and hops onto my desk.
“So a little birdie told me something exciting,” she whispers even though I’m pretty sure nobody is paying attention to us. “Should we head to lunch so we can discuss?”
I should say no. I should work straight through lunch and only get up to nod to Marcus and Greg, but I need to scream about this somewhere. Ella will lecture me about not loving what I do, Mom will tell me not to count my chickens before they hatch, and Bailey only wants to gossip about who knows what, so I decide to celebrate this moment with my friend.
Instead of answering, I close down my computer and grab my purse out of my drawer. “This calls for Cipriani, correct?”
“You read my mind.”
“Can you even believe it?” She taps her glass of champagne against mine. “Out of everyone at the office, you’re poised to edge out all of those men for this promotion.”
She’s right. This is a big deal for me as a woman, but it’s an even bigger deal for me as a Black woman. There are so many unseen battles that Black women face every single day. Reaching this point feels like a miracle. I know I deserve it. I know I’m the best person for the job, but to have that acknowledged by two white men? It doesn’t always happen.
“There’s no way Jackson is going to get this over me.” It’s not that Jackson isn’t good at his job, he is. I’m just better. Same goes for Leon. It’s nothing personal, just the truth. “But I have to be honest, I always thought you’d be here with me.”
“I know.” Delilah’s dark brown eyes soften, but not with remorse. “Who would’ve thought when we auditioned for Real Love it would lead us here?”
“Definitely not me.” Talk about the understatement of the century.
It’s almost impossible for my mind to drift back to the day I was offered the lead; it feels as surreal now as it did then. Speaking to Paul that day, I thought I knew exactly what I was saying no to, but sitting across from Delilah with my dream job within reach, I’m not so sure anymore. I thought once Delilah realized she was passed up for the position, regret would start to set in. Instead, she’s sitting across from me, sipping on champagne like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Me either.” She sets her glass on the table and aims all of her attention at me. She always used to be so distracted, as if there was something more pressing on her mind. But now it’s almost disconcerting how present she always is. “I thought I knew my path. I think it’s the initial reason we connected so quickly; we both knew what we wanted and were determined to get it. But I’m so happy now that it makes me wonder if I ever really knew what I wanted.”
“I guess that’s the best part of life, you don’t have to have it all figured out, and even when you think you do, you’re allowed to change your mind.”
Thank god Ella isn’t around for this conversation. I can only imagine how she’d react to those words coming out of my mouth.
“Have you changed your mind? Because it seems like your fork in the road is repeating itself. I know I keep pestering you about the opportunity to do Real Love again, but I just really want you to genuinely think about it.” She stops talking and aims a dazzling smile at our poor waiter as he sets her chicken salad in front of her. When he rounds the table to place my giant plate of gnocchi in front of me, I almost forget what we’re talking about. I mean, gnocchi is like the pinnacle of carbs. Pasta made of potatoes? Yes, please.
“I haven’t changed my mind.” Yet, I think before shoveling a fork full of fluffy potato goodness into my mouth. “But I’d be lying if I said seeing you since you’ve gotten back hasn’t forced me to open it.”
“I guess that’s all I can really hope for.” She takes a sip of her champagne and looks at me over the rim of the glass. “I know that it seems like Real Love is very surface-level, dating-show crap, but I promise, it’s so much more than that. I learned more about myself in those few months than I had in my entire life. It sounds cheesy, but disconnecting with the world allowed me to connect with myself.”
That does sound cheesy, but I keep that to myself because it also sounds amazing. And I’m genuinely happy for my friend.
“Well, between my sister invading my house and breaking up with Vaughn, disconnecting does sound ideal. But no matter what happens, you have to promise not to ambush me on live TV ever again. That might’ve scarred me for life.”
“I knew it!” she shouts, and slams her fist on the table. Her cheeks turn bright red when everyone at surrounding tables turns to look at us. “I told Bailey that I thought we should warn you at least a little bit. I kept trying to convince her to tell you as you were driving, but then I got pulled away by production and couldn’t call you.”
“I must have heard that wrong, but now that I know, thank you for attempting to give me a warning call.”
I could’ve sworn Bailey told me that it was Delilah’s idea to keep everything a secret, but the night was such a blur. Maybe I’m remembering wrong.
“Well, you don’t need a warning for this.” Delilah lifts her glass into the air before I can think back on my TV debut any longer. “To new beginnings and bold moves on whatever paths we may choose.”
“Cheers to us.” I tap my glass against hers, taking a small sip of the bubbly beverage.
As happy as I am for my friend for taking the leap into the unknown, I just don’t know if I could do the same. I’ve worked so hard to follow The Plan, and with my promotion right around the corner, this isn’t the time to deviate from it.
And I don’t think anything or anyone could change my mind.