Yes! I pump an imaginary fist.
“That sounds great,” I reply smoothly. “I’ll do the best job I can. You have my word.”
“I’m sure you will, Christopher. You always do,” Doug replies. His cell phone chimes, and he picks it up from his desk to look at the screen. “I’m gonna need to take this. See yourselves out.” He lifts the phone to his ear and says, “Howard, you old devil. How’s your golf game these days?”
I follow Jefferson out of Doug’s office. He’ll gloat about the Fonica account, but I bet hearing Doug say he and I will talk when I’m back from this job is grating on him.
He wants that promotion, too.
“Sounds like you got the bridesmaid’s account to keep you busy while I’m schmoozing in Chicago. Good for you.”
On no planet do I believe he means it.
“I only hope I can do a good job for the company. That’s what matters, after all.”
He stretches his arms above his head. “I guess I’d better go pack. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Dougie and I already had our chat about my promotion. Tuesday night out at Sammie’s Bar while you were toiling away in your office. Don’t get your hopes up. We all know there can only be one new junior partner. As you said, you’ll want what’s best for the company.”
Is he telling the truth? Or is he trying to get under my skin?
“Christopher?” Anita, Doug’s assistant, calls out. “Doug asked me to give you this.” She holds out a file.
I take it in my hands and read the label. Cantor Mill. Huh. I’ve never heard of it. I open the file and flick through it. It looks like it’s in Washington State, has a decent turnover, and has been operating for decades.
“Looks like a blast,” Wyatt says, snooping over my shoulder.
I snap the file shut.
“Where is this lumber mill that my good friend Christopher is going to be spending the next few months of his life, Anita?” Wyatt asks.
Anita scans her computer screen and replies, “Washington State. A place called Hunter’s Creek.”
“Hunter’s Creek?” Wyatt asks with a laugh. He slaps my shoulder a little too firmly. “I’m sure Chicago’s got nothing on a place with a creek.”
“I bet it’s really pretty, especially at this time of year,” Anita replies, offering me a conciliatory smile.
She, along with the rest of the office, must know I got the raw end of the deal.
“Hey Siri, what’s the population of Hunter’s Creek, Washington?” Wyatt asks his phone.
The population of Hunter’s Creek is 8,351, Siri replies.
“Wow, Young. That’s at least two million less than where I’m headed. Enjoy.”
A muscle twitches in my jaw. Even if Hunter’s Creek isn’t exactly where I want to be heading right now, at least it will be a thousand miles from Wyatt Jefferson.
Nail this assignment and the promotion is as good as mine.
I only need to get through the next couple of months.
Chapter 2
Harper
I gaze out the window from my seat up high on the Greyhound bus, my belly heavy. It’s a heaviness I’ve come to expect, every day. I watch as we motor past yet another power pole on my journey north from the warm, sunny beaches of SoCal. That makes 312 since I started counting a ways back. 312 power poles. Now it’s 313. 314. 315…
The repeated rhythm stops my mind from dwelling on the life I’ve left behind. And not dwelling on that is at the top of my list right now.
316, 317, 318…
There has to be a better way to numb my brain.
It may be a full two and a half months since that terrible evening on the Santa Monica Pier, but I’m hardly dancing on air these days. I guess that happens when your life is turned upside down by the guy you thought you’d be with forever deciding to replace you with someone misnamed Serenity.
Not that I’m bitter.
Okay, I’m bitter.
Can you blame me? Dex was the one. The guy I was going to be with forever. The guy I followed to Los Angeles.
And for what? A great big fat nothing, that’s what.
I’ll tell you one thing, since that horrible evening I’ve realized I’ve made a few regrettable decisions in my life, and every single one of them involved Dex.
Horrible Decision number 1: dating Dexter Grubb, aka the Dex Ryder.
Which leads me to Regrettable Decision number 2: moving to LA to be with Dex after I finished my teaching diploma. I got a position at an elementary school close to where I lived, which I loved, while he spent the next few years as a struggling actor, trying to get his big break.
Which inevitably leads me to Regrettable Decision numbers 3 through 3,000: spending my entire salary (and then some) supporting Dex’s acting career, only to be dumped like a hot potato at the first sign of his success on Serious Bite.
And yes, I thought vampire shows were over with a capital “O”, but apparently not, because this vampire show has taken off big time.
I push out a breath.
Just gotta keep counting those power poles. 973 poles later, the bus pulls into another stop, and I lean my head against the back of the seat and wait. It feels like I’ve been on this bus for my entire life.
“Mind if I take this seat?”
I pull my eyes from blankly gazing at the back of the seat in front of me to the kindly face of a woman about my mom’s age. With her copper red hair in tight curls clashing with the bright pink of her lipstick, the skin around her eyes crinkles as she smiles down at me.
“Sure.” I pull my backpack from the neighboring seat, and she sits down heavily, engulfing me in a cloud of floral perfume.
She busies herself getting ready for the long hours ahead as a stream of teenage girls making their way down the bus chat and giggle amongst themselves. I notice one of the girls—a brunette with long hair and a smattering of freckles on her nose—watching me closely as she passes by.
“I’m Florence, but you can call me Flo,” the woman beside me says.
Oh, great. A talker. I had one of those about four hundred power poles ago. An older man with protruding nose hair who wanted to tell me about the wild world of metal detecting, and how he expects to make his millions one day with a huge find.
It was not riveting.
“Hey, Flo. I’m Harper,” I tell her with little enthusiasm.
“My, that’s such a pretty name. Like Harper Lee, the novelist. Or Harper Collins, the publishing house. Right?”
I shrug, hoping my lack of engagement will tell her I’m not in the mood for chatting. “I guess?”
“Where are you heading today? Oh, don’t say anything. Let me guess.” She runs her gaze across my purple daisy-print dress and faded denim jacket, landing on the delicate gold “H” pendant my parents gave me for my high school graduation. “By the looks of you, honey, you missed your stop in San Francisco, circa 1965.” Flo hoots with laughter at her own joke.
I force a laugh. It sounds weird.
I feel eyes on me and I glance up at the girl from before. She’s looking back at me from the row in front of us. Her face immediately disappears behind the seat.
Please don’t recognize me.