They sat at the same table as the other night. The atmosphere was hushed and intimate, and the restaurant was empty. A lone piano singer sang a sad rendition of Piano Man by Billy Joel. The Boston city lights sprawled in glory underneath them as she gazed out the window.
“Tell me about your job,” Grant said. “When you first took my class you said you had burnout.”
She forked up a leafy green and thought about the question. “It’s a demanding career,” she said carefully. “The hours are shit, the deadlines are killer, and you have to be wonderful and creative for every account or someone else will step over and take your position.” He saw right through her words and nodded. “You love it.” Arianna grinned. “Hell, yes, I love it. I get up in the morning and I’m excited about what the day brings. I never know what to expect. The money is great, the pressure helps me thrive, and I’m lucky I found what I want to do. Most people don’t.” A shadow must have crossed her face because his gaze probed hers, looking for something more. “No, you’re right. Most people don’t.” He seemed to fight his own demons and then came back to her. “How did you start?”
“I come from a small town in Iowa. I moved to New York when—“
“Excuse me, did you say Iowa?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Iowa. You have a problem with that?” He held up both hands in defense. “I love Iowa. I just can’t picture you living in a small town. Your personality is a bit too, well, large.”
“My mother agrees.” She thought about those younger years and allowed him access. “I always felt out of place. We lived in a farming community where things were simple. The school, the jobs, the people. I was always. . . wanting.” He reached across the table and snagged her hand. His fingers massaged hers. Their gentle strength soothed her soul and she reached deeper to share part of who she was. “I wanted to move and do something great with my life, but my family was pretty shocked at my ambitions. They never understood who I was, so it ended up with my acting out in high school and gaining the reputation of being a slut.”
“Not very Iowalike, huh?”
She smiled. “No. I got through high school by using my reputation to anger them further.
And then I graduated and moved to New York.”
“How was the transition?”
“Tough.” She shrugged it off as the memories flitted past. “Young attractive girl hits the city with a will to set it on fire. Little money in her pocket. Things were not pleasant for a long time. But I got lucky. I found some girls who wanted to make it in acting and I roomed with them. I waitressed and worked the movie theater and learned retail. I made no money but I kept myself working and I experimented.”
“I bet you did.” His low, sexy tone raked across her ears.
“I dated creative artists and actors. I dabbled in theater and music, but something didn’t feel right. I finally got an office job with a steady income and benefits at a small advertising firm.
Receptionist. I worked hard and started snooping around. When I started dating one of the executives I began learning about working an advertising account. One evening, he was revising his pitch and I had an idea. I came up with a tagline—branding is pretty important, especially now. My idea got him the account, and before I knew it, we were working together. Of course, I was behind the scenes and never got credit, but I learned a lot.” Grant leaned over, seemingly intrigued by her life story. “What happened?” She took another sip of her martini. “I slipped him a mickey one night.” He choked, then grabbed his napkin. “You what?”
Arianna gave a wicked grin. “Put something in his drink so he got sick. Just a little. I showed up for work and took over his position on the pitch that day. Walked right into the conference room and did the presentation like I owned the place. They loved me.”
“You got his job?”
“Hell, no, the creep lied and threw me to the wolves, so they fired me. But after that I had the experience I needed. I lied on my resume and got another job at my current firm. First level assistant. But that’s all I needed. A foot in the door. I made my own luck.” Grant shook his head in admiration. “Heck of a story. What do your parents think?” She fought past the sadness and refused its entrance. “They were happy I was okay, but they’re not interested in the life I built here. They’re more interested in me getting married and having children. I think that will help them believe I’m normal. So far, I’ve been one long line of disappointments. They couldn’t have any other children so they were hoping I’d settle in Iowa, help dad run the farm and have a few kids.”