One Time, Badly Read online

  "You were going to break up with him anyway!"

  "Yeah and do you know how embarrassing that is. I was gearing up to dump him and, not only does he beat me to it, but he did it because he landed his dream job across the country. He wins a thousand times over and I just plain lose. I've said it before and I'll say it again, fuck Joe Hemsley," she'd lowered her voice to a near-inaudible level for that last part and Cee wasn't sure if she was being polite about using the f word or if she was nervous that word would somehow get back to Joe that Louisiana was admitting defeat.

  "I thought we were supposed to refer to him as Hoe Jemsley moving forward? What happened to all your 'laugh at his expense' rules?" Cecelia was trying not to giggle as she felt the loofa begin to tickle her foot. She could never keep it together during this part.

  "Oh my God, yes! Ugh, that was such a good idea. I'll never not laugh at that. Hoe Jemsley. Genius."

  "If you do say so yourself."

  "And I do. Anyway, I'm being a bitch. If you're upset with Max, just tell him. He probably didn't realize how much of a dick he was being," and with that powerful statement, Louisiana promptly lost her grip on her iPhone and shrieked as it slid into the water at her feet.

  "You like the wine?" Cecelia raised her eyebrows at Max, licking the remnants of her own sip off of her lips.

  "Yeah, it's really good. Nice choice, Juice," he smiled across the table, reaching for his napkin and leaning back comfortably in his chair as he laid it across his lap in anticipation of the clams oreganata appetizer they'd just ordered.

  "Why thank you. That's high praise from an industry professional such as yourself."

  "I'm not sure that bartending at Central puts me up there with the pros, but I'll take it."

  It was her opening and she could feel the words on the tip of her tongue. Speaking of Central, I really don't like the way you spoke to me yesterday when I stopped by. Or, Is it really that fucking bad that you have to treat me like shit? But what was the point?

  So he was in a bad mood for one hour of their three-year relationship. Was one crappy conversation worth ruining the whole night?

  She decided that it wasn't. She marked yesterday's conversation as a red flag, as something to reference if he decided to go rogue some other time. For now, she was just going to enjoy this night out with Max.

  Their conflicting schedules, with her working all day and him working most nights, made it a rare occasion and she planned on sipping her wine and savoring the pasta dish she'd ordered and making Max smile, because that seemed to be what he really needed most these days.

  When Cecelia walked into work the next morning, after a night of good food and even better sex, her worries were gone. She and Max had spent the better part of the night laughing and there really was nothing more reassuring to her than the fact that they enjoyed each other's company so damn much.

  She even found herself stifling a laugh as she stepped off the elevator, thinking about the story Max had told her about a girl celebrating her 21st who'd puked directly on her best friend the night before. Lou would've had Cee's head.

  She strolled past reception, shooting her usual, "Morning, Haley," at the smiling brunette behind the desk.

  "Cecelia, wait! These just came in for you, lucky girl," Haley gestured to a bright bouquet of yellow roses. Her favorite.

  Her heart skipped a beat as she reached for them. Thanking Haley, she made her way over to her desk and immediately went for the card sticking out between buds.

  Sure enough, it was Max's chicken scratch that greeted her.

  For my girl,

  Hope these flowers get your week off to a better start than your weekend got off to. I'm an asshole and I'm sorry. And I love you. And I love you. And I love you.

  - Max

  She clutched the note to her chest, savoring the rush of emotion passing through her. Haley was right; she was one hell of a lucky girl.

  She pulled out her phone to type a quick message to Max before jerking her computer mouse a bit, bringing the screen to life, smiling all the while.

  When Louisiana had called Cee the week before inviting her to a coworker's birthday drinks, Cecelia had given a half-hearted response. It was the kind of sound that even through the phone is accompanied by a shrug and Cee thought that Lou had understood that as a 'maybe' at best. Despite Lou's current claim, Cecelia had no recollection whatsoever of actually agreeing to this.

  That hadn't stopped Lou from texting her approximately one million times explaining that a deal is a deal and there's no way that Cecelia would be bailing on her now.

  I don't even know any of these people, you have to come with me! I need to infiltrate the work clique and you're going to be my right hand woman.

  Truthfully, Cee didn't have any other plans for that night. She'd been looking forward to changing out of the tights she'd worn to work and releasing her toes from the confines of her booties, but that would just have to wait. Lou was being relentless about this and it would be easier for Cee in the long run if she just showed face for an hour, waited for Lou to inevitably 'infiltrate the work clique' and headed home afterwards.

  It was through this reasoning that she found herself leaning against a wooden bar in the East Village, vodka club in hand, listening to Lou strategize which of the girls was most likely to warm to her first.

  "I've just never had to plan for this kind of thing before, you know?" Lou took a healthy sip of her own drink, a vodka cranberry with an extra lime. "Normally I'm able to just kind of form my own group, but these work cliques are no joke. This is worse than high school. I'm honestly kind of intimidated by them."

  "Lou, you're awesome. They're going to see that and you'll be completely fine. Leader of the pack, I bet."

  "Thanks for coming. I know I gave you a hard time, but it just makes me feel a lot better having you here."

  "Anything for you, Lou," she shot her friend a smile and drained her drink. "I think I'm going to order another one. You in?"

  "Hell yeah, I need to get a little lubricated for this."

  "Please never say that ever again. It's creepy and if that's the way you've been talking then I'm not surprised you can't make any friends at work."

  "That's just plain mean. Although I have to admit I really haven't been myself since Joe left," a worried look crossed Lou's face. "I know I was playing it cool, but I think I might've actually been in love with him. Just wish I would've realized it before he moved away."

  "Shit, Lou. I didn't realize you were still thinking about him like that. Have you talked to him at all?"

  "A bit. He called me last week and we've sent a few texts, but nothing serious. He seems really happy out there, though. Like 'I'm going to stay here forever' happy."

  "He's been gone for less than a month. Give him some time; he's going to miss his friends. And you. Max was always saying that, no matter how unbothered the two of you would act by one another, he'd never seen Joe act like that with any other girl."

  "Really? Max said that? Why would you never tell me that?"

  "I know you. I thought it might freak you out, so I kept it to myself."

  "Saved it for a time that it would be a straight dagger to my heart, did you?"

  "That's not what I meant to do, you wacko! Just seems like you could use it now."

  "Ugh, look at me. Twenty minutes early to a party at which I essentially plan to beg people to be friends with me and, furthermore, spending that time mooning over Joe Hemsley. This is most definitely a low point in my life, Cee. I'm sorry you have to see me like this."

  "Lou, if these past few months are any indication, things are just downhill from here. We might as well get used to seeing one another flailing around. The real world doesn't seem to play around."

  "Things not going any better with Max?"

  "Things are fine, I just feel like something's off with him. He's been acting normal for the most part, but things feel different to me now."

  "Do you think you're still mad about t
he Central thing?"

  "No, I thought it might be that, but I'm over it. Nothing like that has happened again and, looking back, it wasn't that big of a deal. I think I was more surprised than anything else."

  "Then what do you think it is?"

  "Couldn't tell you. It's starting to get to me though, but what am I supposed to do? I can't pinpoint anything, it's just a feeling I have."

  "You guys have been together long enough that you can go to him with it, though. Don't you think? You guys are solid, he's not going to get weirded out if you try to have a talk with him."

  "Yeah, you're right. I just don't want to make it an issue until I'm sure it should be. He's really depressed about not finding a job and I don't want to dump anything else on him without a good reason."

  "That's probably smart. It really does start to feel personal when no one wants to hire you. I think that's where my confidence issues began, ya know?"

  "Lou, be serious!"

  "Ok, ok, I'm sorry. But I was only half kidding. You were one of the lucky ones. When months go by and no one's biting it feels like a failure. And then it just starts to get scary, thinking you'll never have a real job and you're falling behind everyone else. It sucks."

  "That's definitely a part of it, I think. But it's not like I'm out there living the dream. I hate my job, Monday's feel like some kind of hellscape every week. I never knew I could dread a place so much and still show up there day in and day out."

  "That makes me sad. How much longer until you start looking for something new?"

  "I want to give it a year. I don't think it'll grow on me, but I wouldn't mind having a new title to put on my resume before I move on."

  "That sounds like a plan. Hey, maybe you can come work with me and we can start our own work clique!"

  "Only time will tell, Lou. Only time will tell."

  "Shit, they just all walked in. Together! So cliquey of them, those cliquey bitches."

  "Lou, relax. You're trying to make friends here, remember?"

  "Good point. Let me get my game face on."

  Before Cecelia knew it, Louisiana was across the bar, warm smile plastered on her face, already winning over the crowd, Cee was sure.

  Chapter 9

  2014

  December

  "It still doesn't look right to me. I think it needs to be more to the left…or maybe more to the right? What do you think?" Cecelia was crouched down in the middle of her living room, trying to figure out just why her very first Christmas tree in her very first apartment looked so off kilter.

  "It's just a crooked tree, Cee. I told you that when you picked it out," Max couldn’t hold back a laugh at the look Cecelia shot him in response. She was clearly not as amused as he was by the misfit tree.

  "There's no such thing as a crooked tree," she craned her head to the side, trying to find an angle at which her tree looked properly upright.

  "That's just categorically false, but I can't get into that right now. What do you want me to do with this thing? My arms are tired from dragging it all over the apartment. I think I got these stupid needles down my pants somehow," he made a show of shaking his leg, as if he were simply crawling in tree needles.

  "Not the only needles you have down your pants," she raised her eyebrows.

  "Needle?! Once again, categorically false," Max fixed her with a look at that. She knew the deal; it wasn't even worth joking about.

  "Aw, it's my favorite needle," she blew him a kiss from across the room.

  "Keep going, Chapelle. See who fixes your naturally crooked tree then," Max made a show of letting the tree drop to the side an inch or two before he regained his grip.

  "Speaking of naturally crooked trees…"

  "How about we drop the word 'crooked' from this conversation all together. I think it's starting to hurt everyone's feelings, and I'm including the tree in that."

  "Ok, ok! I'll stop. Can you just pull it towards you a tiny bit…there, perfect!" 'Perfect' was probably too strong a word to use, but it would do. She would never admit it, but Max was right. The tree seemed to be the problem, not the stand.

  "Yeah?" He let go of the tree altogether now, taking a step back to get a better look at it.

  "Yeah, come see," Cecelia waved Max towards her, a wide smile on her face at the sight of the tree standing there on its own.

  "You're right, it does look kind of perfect," Max stood beside her, hands on his hips, a proud look on his face.

  "I love it," she went up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

  "Welcome," he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her against his chest and squeezing her tight. "I love you."

  "Love you too, Max," she turned her head to look up at him. "You ok? You look tired."

  "Yeah, just a long day. And then I went to my girlfriend's and got verbally abused, so it's just taking a toll on me," she could feel his smile against her neck as he dipped his head and nuzzled his chin at its base, his 5 o'clock shadow scratching her the whole while.

  "Aw, you poor thing. Come here, I'll make you some hot chocolate," she turned in his arms, grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen where she began warming the milk. Max perched on a barstool, watching her pour their drinks, a glazed look in his eyes.

  If Cee was being honest, Max looked more than tired. There was a gauntness to his face that she hadn't noticed before and it was apparent enough to make him look sick. She made a mental note to pay more attention the next time he took off his shirt or wrapped his arms around her. It made her stomach drop to think of collecting information on him like this, to think of putting her suspicions first rather than asking Max for an explanation, but some things were better approached with a bit of evidence and she had a feeling that this was one of those things.

  2018

  September

  She'd made it all the way to 2:00 pm before her nerves started getting the best of her. Thankfully, the tough part of her day was over. After the successful pitch, she'd suffered through a 2-hour meeting, of which less than 5 minutes had anything to do with her.

  It was just a lot of talk about readership numbers and which writers were pulling their weight, i.e. bringing in the most traffic to the site. Cecelia knew that her team was doing just fine this quarter, and it was always awkward to sit there and witness other editors try to explain why their numbers were down.

  This was the one aspect of her job that she truly hated. It was easy to feel pride in high readership numbers, but when eyes weren't coming to your content it had the power to throw the whole team into a funk. Writers stopped focusing on what they thought were the best topics to cover, but rather on what they thought people would be more likely to read.

  The lack of interest from the writer inevitably bled through the work itself and it created for some really bland pieces. Needless to say, it tended to do more harm than good to try to please readers rather than write what was going to come across as genuine, at least in her department.

  Luckily, she just got a quick rundown of her own team's numbers and, in turn, provided a few comments on how they'd continue to produce similar content while introducing the new series before the Editor-in-Chief moved on to the next department. She spent the rest of the meeting imagining the worst possible outcomes of tonight.

  She went through dozens of scenarios, from Max completely ignoring her to him pulling her aside to tell her how she'd ruined his life. Neither seemed likely, but anything could happen on a night like this. All it took was the proper mixture of alcohol and emotions.

  As the meeting came to a close, Cecelia realized that the worst possible thing that could've happened tonight would be for Max to not be there. That had always been the scariest thought to run through her mind and it remained so to this day. If Max walked into the bar tonight, then there would be no 'worst' outcome happening. And there wasn't much she could do if he hated her now. She wouldn't even blame him. She probably would've felt bitter if he'd left her the way that she'd done hi
m.

  She pulled her jacket more tightly around her as a cool breeze passed by, lifting her hair and gently placing it back down around her shoulders. She gave it a shake, encouraging the strands to fall back into their proper place. At least she looked put together, even if her insides were a mess.

  She always found that looking good could make up a lot of ground when it came to situations like this. With her makeup done just so and her hair falling in waves down her back, it might not matter that her palms were sweating and her heart was racing. No one would know that she'd been too nervous to eat anything all day. No one would know that she was surviving on one large cup of black coffee alone.

  She could stand there in her designer heels and vintage dress with a smile on her face. She could mention her successful pitch and her office with a door and her friendly assistant and no one would have to know about anything else. She might even be able to fool Lou, if only for a few hours.

  She didn't need to be the girl who carried a poorly mended broken heart into the bar. She could be the successful editor who just presented an idea to a room of six men and got it through. It was her choice and she knew it.

  2014

  December

  "I'm on my way, Mom. I promise. I just can't get in touch with Max and he was supposed to be here already."

  Somehow, Cecelia found herself sitting alone on the couch in her apartment on Christmas morning, picking at her tights and battling an anger that was fast approaching rage. An hour worth of unanswered phone calls and text messages could do that to a person.

  "Well, did he know that we were leaving for grandma's at 12?" she could tell her mother was trying to calm her.

  She'd ask questions and make suggestions, showing Cee a way to work through it rather than to just be mad about it. Normally, this would just frustrate Cecelia further, but in the moment she was grateful for the pragmatism. Calling a phone that hadn't been answered in more than hour was getting her nowhere.