Page 34 of East

Okay. I have to think. I call an Uber to pick me up. I pay extra to bump the line. Great. Frank will be here in five minutes.

That gives me three hundred seconds to figure out how I’m covering my feet. I don’t keep a spare pair of shoes in the news station, which until now never seemed like an oversight. I hobble into Wick’s living room. He’s asleep on the couch in a pair of boxers. His living-room floor is strewn with dirty tissues, and I don’t think it’s because of a sinus infection.

I really don’t want to wake him. I’m pretty sure I ended up rejecting him last night, and I don’t need to relive any awkwardness. I wasn’t even supposed to spend the night anyway.

A few pairs of shoes clutter Wick’s entryway, but they’re all way too big for me. He must have size-thirteen feet.

But then—God bless us, everyone—I spot a smaller pair of silver tennis shoes in the corner. They’re too small to be Wick’s. Maybe they belonged to an old girlfriend or something. Her loss is my gain. I slip into them. Perfect fit.

I’m looking around for a piece of paper to leave a note to Wick about the shoes and that I’ll drop them off once I’m done with work, when my phone buzzes. My Uber is here.

I really have no time to lose, so I’ll just have to hope Wick doesn’t miss the shoes. They’re clearly not his, so I’m not too worried.

I run out the front door and hurl myself into the car. “You’re Frank? For Thea, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the driver replies.

“Great. I’m running late. There’s a handsome tip in it for you if you get me there as fast as humanly possible.”

“Heard.” The car’s tires screech as Frank peels out from the curb.

It’s a short drive to the news station. One nice thing about work starting so early is that I rarely have to deal with rush-hour traffic. Should have taken fifteen minutes, but Frank whittled it down to eleven. I’ll make sure to send him a hundred-dollar tip once I have a moment to breathe.

I careen into the news station. Mags, my makeup girl, widens her eyes. “Thea! Where the hell have you been?”

“Long story. So sorry I’m late. But I’m here now. Can you get me ready in time?”

She eyes my dress. “You’re not going to go on in that, are you?”

I roll my eyes. “Obviously not. I keep a spare outfit in the office.”

Mags nods. “Okay. Let’s get you into that and then I’ll touch up your makeup. With a little luck, we’ll just make it.”

“Thank you, Mags. And I promise you this will never happen again.”

Mags helps me out of the dress and I slip on my emergency outfit—a smart dark-purple pants suit with a cream blouse and a mint-green silk scarf. I’ll keep the silver tennis shoes on, as the camera will only capture me from the waist up. Not a huge deal.

Mags then throws me in the makeup chair and fixes my hair and face up in record time. I have about thirty seconds to spare before she pushes me in front of the cameras for the weather report.

I take a deep breath in, do everything in my remaining twenty-five seconds to center myself.

I made it by the skin of my teeth. My career isn’t in jeopardy. I didn’t miss the broadcast.

But it could have been worse. If I’d slept even ten minutes longer, I would have been royally fucked.

All because I drank too much and went home with a strange man last night.

I can’t allow that to happen again.

As the heat of the studio lights warms my face, one thought rises to the top of my self-soothing.

My days at the Jade Sanctum are officially over.

14

AUS

I wake up.