The Waiter Bradleigh Collins (autobiographies to read TXT) 📖

All of the sudden, I felt guilty. Like I had somehow tainted our budding relationship by hanging out with Dalton. The Waiter and I weren’t really seeing each other. But we were doing something. I typed out a response.

“I’m recovering from a girls’ night out in which I attempted to drown my sorrow. I didn’t get the job.”

My phone rang. It was The Waiter.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get it. I’m so sorry hon.”

“Thanks. I’m pretty bummed. But now I’m just sitting here blasting Monster with my resume.”

“Good. So that means you’ll be back up here soon.”

“I hope so.”

“Me too. I can’t wait to see you again.”

I wondered if he could hear me smiling through the phone.

“So, what were you wearing last night while you were drowning your sorrow?” I immediately thought about holding my mini-dress down to cover my ass while Dalton was carrying me out of the Clermont.

“Oh, the usual. Little black dress.”

“How little? Bring it the next time you come up.”

“I will.”

“Okay babe, I’m going to head to the gym before work. Talk later?”

“Of course.”

After we hung up, I called Josh.

“I did a bad, bad thing.”

“You had sex with Dalton, didn’t you?”

“No, but I did kiss him. Because I was drunk. And I was drunk because I didn’t get the job.”

“Get the fuck out. Really? That sucks!”

I gave Josh the rundown of why I thought I didn’t get the job as well as an overview of the previous night’s antics. Then I remembered Lucy had mentioned that Vogue was always hiring.

“Hey, can you email me Lucy’s contact info? I wanna send her my resume. She said she might be able to find something for me at Vogue.”

“Sure,” he replied. “I’ll go do it right now.”

“Thanks Josh. I’ll talk to you later.”

I sat there for a minute, just picturing myself working at Vogue. What are the odds? I figured they were better for me than for most, since I had an inside contact. In any case, I was feeling a lot better about myself and my prospects today than I did yesterday. And how great would it be to tell Bitchy Brenda that I was moving to New York to work for Vogue?

In less than a minute, Josh had sent me Lucy’s info. I quickly fired off an email message to her and attached my resume along with a few writing samples. I thanked her profusely for offering to help.

The downstairs buzzer rang. I went over to answer it. “Yes?”

“Delivery for Sammy St. Clair.”

“Come on up.” I pressed the buzzer. Deliveries were pretty common on Saturdays, even though I couldn’t remember ordering anything. In a few minutes there was a knock at my door. I opened it to see an enormous bouquet of peach-colored roses. I was stunned.

“Sign here, please.” The delivery guy handed me a pen and I signed.

“Thank you.” I closed the door and set the flowers down on the table. They smelled like perfume. I counted them one-by-one. There were thirty-six in total. Three-dozen roses from Dalton. I smiled as I read the card.

I’m sorry about the job. I’m sorry I’m a dick. I’m sorry you didn’t talk to me for 36 days. But I’m not sorry about that kiss.

CHAPTER 9

◆◆◆

I spent the rest of Saturday and all day Sunday applying for jobs. On Monday I went to a Labor Day barbecue at Dana and Simon’s. We sat outside drinking margaritas and analyzing the Dalton situation. Dana was impressed that I hadn’t slept with him. I was impressed that I hadn’t slept with him. I told her about the flowers. It wasn’t the first time Dalton had sent me flowers, but Dana and I were both taken aback at the seeming sincerity of the card. I could feel him reeling me back in. If I stayed in Atlanta, I knew I’d end up back with him. Dana agreed.

Tuesday I got an email from Lucy about a job at her friend Jackie’s start-up. Jackie had worked at Vogue for several years before launching a fashion site called e-Styled.com. It brought together stylists, designers, clothing brands and all kinds of fashion industry people and allowed consumers and subscribers the ability to style outfits and build wardrobes online. It was an incredibly creative concept, and the company was well-funded. They were looking for an Online Editor to write web content, newsletters, ad copy, and fashion related articles. Lucy asked if I would be interested. Of course I said yes.

It was now Wednesday afternoon. Deb and I had just returned from a cardio funk class at the frog pond. Okay, the Australian Body Works gym wasn’t actually in a frog pond. It was in The Rio Mall, which was two blocks from the office. It’s where we spent most of our lunch hours. The inner courtyard had this strange water fountain with hundreds of gold frogs lined up in a foosball formation. That’s why we called it the frog pond.

Just as I sat down at my desk, the phone rang. I answered.

“Hi Sammy, this is Victoria Neal. I’m the Human Resources Manager at e-Styled. We’d love to have you come in for an interview next week. Are you available Monday?”

“Yes, of course. I’d love to.”

“Great! How about two o’clock?”

“That works for me.”

“Okay then. I’ll send you an email with all the details and we’ll look forward to seeing you on Monday.”

“Thank you so much,” I said as I hung up the phone. I was so excited my entire body was shaking. I immediately put in a vacation day request for Monday. My boss was off this week, but I knew he would approve it. Then I called our in-house travel agency to arrange my flight and hotel. I would fly to New York Saturday morning and fly back Monday night. And I’d be staying at On the Ave Hotel again.

After securing my travel plans, I sent Lucy an email telling her about the interview and thanking her for putting in a good word