Page 91 of I Saw You First

He rolls his eyes again. “You know the application system isn’t private, right? I know who’s applying for what and where.”

“That’s—that’s kind of unprofessional.”

“For sure. There’s a glitch in the system. But is that what you really want to do? I’m not asking because I don’t want you to leave the store, although obviously I don’t. I’m asking because this retail gig is not for the faint of heart, especially if you’re moving away from family. I took a sales manager position in Iowa right after college and it was terrible. Hawkeyes fans everywhere.” He shudders.

I don’t know anymore. I don’t know if I want to move to Baxter or Cedar Rapids, so far away from my friends and family. I don’t even know that I want to move to another store here in the Twin Cities. I don’t know anything.

“I guess?”

“Oh, yeah, that sounded convincing.”

He’s right. I need to own this. I need to fake it till I make it, like Glamma would say. Everything’s always working out… never mind.

I take a deep breath and raise my chin. “I’m good at what I do. My team respects me and looks to me for guidance. I’d be an excellent manager. And, yeah, maybe I cry once in a while, but I am not faint of heart.”

“That’s better. That’s the Abbey I know.” He turns back to the computer. “Now will you get out of here and go try to sell something?”

There’s no one to sell anything to, and a couple of hours—and a few more inches of snow—later, Jeremy makes the call to close the store. It takes me over an hour to get home, the snow coming at me horizontally, the roads slippery. I’m thankful that Dad not only bought me a new battery last month when my car died in the parking lot but also sprang for four new tires. The parking lot at our apartment building hasn’t been plowed, and I find myself wishing that I lived in a nicer place, something like Wil’s, with underground parking.

As much as I try to not think about Wil, I’m always thinking about Wil.

Brianna’s home already, too, because even the mall closed. She’s watching a recorded episode of Days of Our Lives. “You’ve got a couple of messages,” she says as she fast-forwards through the commercials.

I grab a Diet RC from the fridge and press play on the answering machine. There’s a message from Glamma and one from Tamsa.

“Hey, Abbey, call me back. There’s some stuff going on and I need to ask you a question.” She sounds down, tired, not her usual enthusiastic self. “Call me as soon as you get this.” Her voice cracks.

I take my off-brand soda into the bedroom and call her office number. There’s no answer, so I try her home phone, and then her cell.

“Oh my god, finally,” she says after she picks up.

“You only left the message like an hour ago.” I sink back against the shams and throw pillows on my bed. “What’s up?”

“Can you meet me for a drink?”

“Seriously? Have you looked outside lately? There’s at least a foot of snow. Didn’t you go to the office today?”

“Well. No.”

“Tam, what’s going on?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.” She sighs. “I’ve got something to ask you, and, like, this would totally be easier at a bar, with one of those cocktails in a big goldfish bowl.”

“Tamsa!” I practically shout. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I need to know why you really left TC Weekly.”

Bam. It’s like someone’s dropped a rock from an overpass and shattered my windshield as I drive past—unexpected, shocking, unbelievable. I haven’t let myself think of that day in weeks. The chaos of the holiday season, and now, what happened with Wil, has taken up all the space surrounding that dark corner of my memory.

I swallow hard. “You know what happened. My position was eliminated.”

“I think you’re lying,” she snaps.

“Wh-why do you think that?”

“Because they hired someone for the music and entertainment job—Laura, and she was really good⁠—”

“Was?” I interrupt.