Unleash Me, Vol. 1 (Unleash Me, Annihilate Me Series) (36 page)

You
’
re
gonna fail, you know?
 
You
’
re
gonna fail and you
’
re
gonna come runnin
’
back to us.
 
Well, here
’
s
the deal, girl.
 
We might not have
you back if you fail.
 
Your mother
and I might just be fine without you.
 
Think about that if you leave.

It was, in fact, that conversation
which convinced me to leave.
 
Lisa
and I had graduated the week before.
 
I called to tell her what my father had said, and by the end of that
week, we had secured our shitty little apartment through a Realtor in New York,
we had packed Lisa
’
s
ten-year-old Golf, which we long ago nicknamed Gretta, and we had left Maine
and our former lives behind,

“
Gretta
will get us out of here,
”
Lisa
said when we hit I-95 South.
 
“
She might be old, but
she never lets me down.
 
We
’
ll do this
together.
 
My book is finished, the
cover is killer, but the text needs a solid proof from you before I load it
onto Amazon.
 
Who knows what will
happen to it?
 
Maybe it
’
ll hit.
 
But even if it doesn
’
t, we have each other,
just as we always have.
 
We
’
ll figure this out
together.
 
Don
’
t let your drunk ass
of a father derail you from your dreams.
 
And, please, don
’
t
let him get further into your head and fuck you up more than he already has.
”

Easier said than done.
 
My father
’
s words haunted me every bit as much now as they always
did.
 
Maybe he saw the real Jennifer
Kent.
 
Maybe he saw me for who I
really was
—
a
failure.
 
Someone who after four
months couldn
’
t
land a damn job in one of the world
’
s largest cities to save her life.

The elevator doors whisked open.
 
No one was inside, which was a
blessing.
 
I entered the car,
pressed the button for the lobby, and leaned back against the elevator wall.
 

I
’
m
not going to cry.

But I did.
 
I was angry, I was overwhelmed, and I
felt that I had no choice but to find a job as a server at a fine-dining
restaurant.
 
This, of course, would
mean another round of interviews because I needed to find a great restaurant
that paid well.
 
I felt deflated at
the prospect of having to start all over again.
 
My eyes again started to well up in
frustration.
 

To my horror, just when my emotions
got the best of me, the elevator slowed as it approached the forty-seventh
floor.
 
I quickly wiped the tears
from my eyes, worrying that in the process I had smeared my mascara, and I
lowered my head as the doors opened so no one could see the truth on my face
about how deeply sad, angry, and desperate I was.

Only I wasn
’
t so quick.
 
For an instant, the man who stepped
inside the car locked eyes with me.
 
He looked at me with concern, saw that the button for the lobby was
already lit, and stood next to me.

The doors slid shut.
 
An uncomfortable silence stretched
between us.

He was gorgeous.
 
Of course, he was.
 
Why wouldn
’
t he be gorgeous?
 
Why should the universe stop kicking my ass now?

It only took a glance to see how
handsome he was.
 
Probably
six-foot-two, gleaming dark hair raked away from a chiseled face peppered with
stubble, full lips, and eyes that were the color of the sea.
 
They were his best feature
—
blue-green
and framed by thick lashes.
 
I
’
d seen plenty of
attractive men during my time in Manhattan, the lot of which I ignored because
I needed to find a job before I even thought about the prospect of dating.
 
But this man was beyond my type.
 
Given my overwhelming streak of good
luck, naturally I was a complete mess when he first saw me.

Get me out of here.
 
Please, just let the elevator move
faster and get me to the street.
 
I
’
ll
walk home in the heat.
 
I don
’
t
care.
 
Just get me out of here now.

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
he
said.
 
“
But are you all right?
”

Fuck my life.
 
“
I
’
m
afraid my allergies have gotten the best of me today.
 
My eyes are burning.
”

“
Is
that it?
”

He knows better.
 
He knows I
’
m
lying.
 
So, what the hell?
 
He
’
s a stranger.
 
According to Ms. Blackwell, I
’
ll
never see her or him again.
 
Why not
burn her while I have the chance?
 
Maybe it
’
ll
get back to her.

“
Actually,
that
’
s
not true.
”

“
What
is true?
”

“
I
came here for a secretarial job.
 
I
have my master
’
s
degree in business, I
’
ve
been in New York since May, and nothing has worked out.
 
I can
’
t find a job.
 
Apparently
—
according
to Ms. Blackwell on the fifty-first floor, who obviously is so pissed that she
’
s going through a
nasty divorce that she took it out on me
—
I can
’
t even take phone calls or manage a filing system.
 
Give me a break.
 
I was hoping to get my foot in the door
here and work my way up, but today turned out to be just another day of
disappointment.
”
 
I looked at him, saw what looked like
irritation on his face, and managed a smile.
 
“
Sorry to vent.
”

“
I
’
m the one who asked
the question.
 
You met with Ms.
Blackwell?
”

“
Yes,
but don
’
t
go near her.
 
She
’
s Hell on Earth.
 
She threatened contact the headhunters
she knows in the city and warn them about me.
”

His brow furrowed.
 
I could see the anger in his eyes.
 
“
Why would she do that?
”

“
Because
she couldn
’
t
imagine why I
’
d
be interested in a low-level job that I
’
m over-qualified for.
 
She said I
’
d
wasted her time.
 
We exchanged
words.
 
It wasn
’
t pretty, but she wasn
’
t professional.
 
She made it personal.
 
So, now I
’
ll be damaged goods to any headhunter I might reach out to.
”

“
What
she did is libelous.
”

“
It
is.
 
Not that I can do anything
about it.
 
I
’
m broke.
”
 
I took a breath and changed the
subject.
 
This guy wasn
’
t only smoking hot,
but he seemed kind and sincere, not unlike the cab driver who brought me
here.
 
I loved this city.
 
But right now?
 
Because of Blackwell?
 
It could go to Hell.
 

I reached behind my head and released
the clip that had held my hair up and away from my face.
 
I shook it out and let it fall over my
shoulders in soft brown waves.
 
It
felt freeing.
 

“
How
do you like it here?
”
I
asked him.
 
“
Assuming you
’
re an employee.
 
Am I missing out on something
great?
 
Despite the black witch of
death back there, I feel as if I am.
”

He was looking at my hair, but then
he appeared to check himself and he met my eyes.
 
“
Working here wasn
’
t exactly part of my own plan, but here I am.
 
It
’
s OK.
 
It keeps
me busy, which is important.
”

“
What
do you do?
”

“
Just
business stuff.
 
I won
’
t bore you with it.
”

“
I
’
d loved to be bored
with
‘
just
business stuff
’
.
”
 

I admired his expensive suit and the
gleaming watch at his wrist, and decided he likely was a senior director or
something whose work was intense.
 
I
looked fleetingly at his face, saw him looking intently at mine, and I couldn
’
t deny my attraction
to him.
 
How old was he?
 
Thirty?
 
Could he be single?
 
Looking like that, there was no way that
he was single.
 
Unless he preferred
it that way.
 
Not that it
mattered.
 
He was in a completely
different league than me
—
the
cost of his watch alone probably could keep me in my apartment for the next
year
—
so
when the elevator started to slow, I was relieved.
 
I really just wanted to get home.

“
What
’
s your name?
”
he
asked.

As hot as he was, I never gave out my
full name to just anyone.
 
“
It
’
s Jennifer,
”
I
said.
 
I didn
’
t want to know his, so
I didn
’
t
ask.
 

But he offered anyway.
 

“
I
’
m Alex.
”
 

He extended his hand, which I shook
as the elevator stopped and the doors opened.
 

“
It
was nice meeting you,
”
I
said, aware of the spark I felt when we touched.
 
The palm of his hand was smooth and
unusually warm.
 
“
Again, sorry for
venting.
”

“
It
sounds as if you had every reason to.
”

Was this guy for real?
 
A part of me didn
’
t want to leave, but I
did.
 
I had to get home and start
hitting the streets for a waitressing gig.
 
I didn
’
t
have time for men, not even this one.