Behind the Scenes(19)

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Lee says. “Bye, Sydney.”

“Okay. Bye.”

She hangs up and I drop the phone in my lap, my head reeling from the conversation.

Lee was right about one thing. Being in L.A. does feel like being a million miles away from home. Every time I get online or talk with someone back in North Carolina, the divide becomes clearer and clearer. The people I’ve grown up with are all moving in new directions.

It’s strange and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. I miss home, but I also hate the place.

Married, with a baby on the way.

A shudder goes down my back. I feel luckier than ever before to be following my dreams. Let everyone else do the same. If Anne-Marie is happy, good for her.

Talking with Lee just happened to make me even more aware of the fact that I’m right where I need to be.

And that thing about Brendan… I hug my knees up to my chest.

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper to myself. “It was a lifetime ago.”

With that settled, I stand and stretch. Sitting in front of me is an area containing about eighteen and a half million people and countless opportunities.

One incorrigible boss is a detail. Friends drifting apart is normal. And the only boy I ever loved is in the past.

The future is mine to make. It’s cheesy, but it’s true, and so I’ll take it.

*

Monday morning, I arrive at work fifteen minutes early, so I wait in my car until a few minutes before I need to go in. I don’t want to run into Mr. Mulroney again in an empty office. I have no interest in it just being the two of us alone ever again.

Two big white grip trucks pass by while I’m sitting staring out over the windshield. I watch them with longing. They disappear around the corner of the nearest building, headed for the backlot.

I purse my lips. So close and yet so far. What I wouldn’t give to be working on the backlot, where the actual sets are, or someplace out on location.

Instead, I’m in an office. I know I should be grateful for the job. If I somehow manage to keep walking the razor’s edge with Mr. Mulroney, then I’ll hopefully be out of the confines of four walls sometime soon. Pissing him off won’t keep me at the company.

Too bad I have morals.

If I didn’t, I could just screw him and maybe get a promotion. Now that would truly be killing two birds with one stone.

Smirking to myself, I climb out of the car and head for the office. Chuck is going in through the front door, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey,” I say.

He mumbles something indistinguishable while holding the door open for me. We go down the hallway, falling into step beside each other. He looks like he’s about to fall over.

“Tired?” I ask.

“Ugh,” he grunts.

Daniel and Dana are at their desks. They’re both busy on their computers, looking like good little workers, so that’s got to mean Mr. Mulroney is in. I swallow the lump in my throat and go hang my backpack on the hook.

“Coffee?” Dana asks. She hands me a paper cup from the paper carrier on her desk.

“Wow, thanks.” I smile at her and take the offered drink.

“So.” Dana takes in a long breath, and the room collectively flinches, preparing for whatever announcement is coming next. “Lots of meetings today,” she says. “And the first one is in the office in an hour.” She looks at me. “Sydney. That means you get the very special job of tidying up.”

I feebly smile.

“This building has a janitor,” Chuck points out.

Dana ignores the comment. “The windows need to be cleaned, the shelves dusted, and the plants’ leaves trimmed.” She rolls her eyes. “Sorry. This isn’t me talking. It’s You-Know-Who.”

Voldemort.

I set my coffee down on the desk top. Did Mr. Mulroney specifically say I needed to clean the office? Is this my punishment for not taking him up on his offer Friday night?

Or maybe I’m just being paranoid. I’m the new girl, after all.

I force myself to smile. “I’m on it.”

Forty-five minutes later, I’m down on my hands and knees, scrubbing at a questionable stain beneath the window. Questionable meaning two things. One: what exactly is it? And two: will it ever come up?

So many mysteries… and so much time to ponder them while I stare at the sponge moving back and forth over the white paint.

A door opens, but I keep scrubbing, just doing my job as told.

“What is she doing on the floor?” Mr. Mulroney’s voice asks.

I clench my eyes shut and slow down the rubbing, waiting for the worst of it to come flying from his lips.

“Cleaning,” Dana says. “Mr. Murakami is coming in a few minutes.”