“I’ll leave you to it. I have the sandwiches ready whenever you are. You know where I’ll be.”
“Thank you,” he mouthed, his hand reaching for mine, twisting our fingers together. He rubbed his thumb across my knuckles and I swear I felt the caress down to the tips of my toes.
I savored the moment for a couple of seconds, then pulled away so that he could finish his call and made my way back upstairs.
Bathed in the soothing ambiance of the solarium, I snacked on a couple of small sandwiches while scrolling through some news sites and job postings around the state. I’d been so set on a magazine position, but after speaking with Katy yesterday, she suggested looking for any openings regarding photography or journalism. That had been my minor in college anyway.
She was right, as usual.
I found a couple promising jobs and bookmarked the pages. My phone began to ring as I pulled up another posting. The number wasn’t familiar so I let it go to voicemail and continued to browse posting. I figured it was a spam call and didn’t think much of it until my phone pinged with a message.
Mom: We need to talk. Where are you?
That sounded a little too ominous coming from my mom, but she didn’t always have the best messaging lingo.
Me: Eating lunch. Will call in a bit.
It wasn’t completely untruthful.
As I closed out of the messaging app, I noticed that the voicemail notification was lit up. I was one of those anal people that couldn’t leave unheard voicemails in the box, especially if I was going to start applying for new jobs. I wanted that inbox empty.
Pressing the play button, I turned the speaker on and listened as I shoved another bite of sandwich into my mouth.
“Mrs. Jackson, this is Angela Townsend from Music Lifetime Magazine. I was so excited to hear that you were looking for a position within our publication and I wanted to reach out directly and offer you an interview. I’ve taken the time and looked over your portfolio and agree that profile work suits you best. We have an opening for a Senior Editorial Photographer and feel that you would be a good fit for this position. You came highly recommended by Asher Blake, who was kind enough to forward an amazing portrait you took of him.
“If you are still interested, please reach back out to me directly at 981-555-4563 and we can get everything set up. Again my name is Angela Townsend and I look forward to hearing from you.”
The sandwich in my mouth had turned to concrete. I choked as I swallowed the mass. I couldn’t believe this. After everything I said to him, Asher went behind my back.
Queuing up the voice message again, I listened to it three more times before everything fully sunk in.
Phone in hand, I stormed down to the basement, my feet stomping the entire way.
“Asher Blake, you better get off the fucking phone right now.”
His overly attractive face peered out of the music room with a brilliant smile in place. I was too furious to ask how his call went and if he was able to set things up with his bandmates. All I saw was red.
“How could you do this to me?” I asked, his smile dropping. I didn’t need to ask how he managed to do it. The guilt was written clearly on his face. It didn’t’ help that Angela had named dropped his like it was fucking Christmas.
“Addison, come on. Be reasonable here.”
“Reasonable? Reasonable? Are you fucking serious right now? All I asked, all I begged of you was to let me do this on my own. I wanted to get a job on my own merit, Asher. God, that was why I was here in the first place. Once I’m linked to a celebrity, that’s all anyone ever wants from me. I’m never just me. Why can’t I be good enough just as me?”
“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I called my assistant and asked if she had any job leads for some of the magazines we shot for in the past. When she sent me the list, I went through the most reputable ones. I didn’t tell them to interview you, Addison. All I did was let them know you were an amazing photographer and send them some of your work. I didn’t do it to hurt you.”
Listening to his explanation pushed away most of my steam, but I was still angry. That was an emotion I had a hard time squashing.
“But you did. You went behind my back after I asked you not to. And now one of the best entertainment magazines in the world knows that the amazing Asher Blake likes my work. Do you know how awful that feels? Can you even see it from my perspective?”
“I can. I do. I just. . .I wanted to help. You deserve to let people help you. You don’t have to do it all on your own.”
He stared at me, his eyes silently pleading for my understanding while mine shot fire in his direction. Asher still didn’t understand that I wanted to accomplish things my own way. That I wanted to find my dream job without a celebrity endorsement. If I did, did that make me any better than the scandalous images Dan wanted to post to get ahead?
“I’m going to go,” I murmured, my fury morphing into desolation.
Alarmed, Asher rushed forward and gripped my shoulders. “What? Why? Addison, please be understanding about this. You’re blowing it out of proportion.”
“Bye, Asher. There are sandwiches on in the solarium.” My voice was sad, despondent. It was funny how quickly I turned into a shell of myself at the knowledge of his betrayal.