This One is Too

Chapter Three

Josie

"I can't believe you talked me into doing this!" I shout at my phone as I throw clothes around my room. "What am I supposed to wear?"

"Literally anything in your closet, Josie. You always dress nice."

"I'm freaking out."

I sit down on my bed, putting my face in my hands.

I've never had an interview before. When Sadie got me a job singing at the same place she did, they just accepted me right away because they were short staffed.

Plus, though technically my mother said I get until I'm twenty-five to do whatever I want, I know it comes with unspoken limitations.

Like, say, traveling across the country and thus making it harder to be watched at every fucking moment by Trey.

"Look, babe, if you don't get the job there's no harm done. You still have the restaurant. If you do get the job, that's your last year of doing whatever the hell you want well spent."

"What if it pisses Trey off?"

"I hope it pisses Trey off. Don't think I've given up trying to find any possible way to get you out of this. You are not marrying that motherfucker. Quit living your life like you are."

I love Livi, and I know she's trying to help. Her words do make me feel hopeful, but I think it's false hope.

Sure, when I turn twenty-five and head back to Atlanta, I can refuse to marry him. I can put up a fuss, and I can kick and scream.

I could maybe get out of it.

But getting out of it doesn't mean getting freedom.

Trey is a sick man, and he would do something to me or to those I love.

Then, after that, they'd throw me in the psych ward and say I'm the one that's crazy.

No, thank you.

If I find a way to get out of this, I'm making sure it's all the way out.

"What about that long, green dress with the big brown buttons down the front?"

"That would look great. Are you going to wear your brown wedges with it?"

"Yes."

"And hair?"

"Probably half up."

"See? You don't even need me style you anymore. You've gotten a fashion since of your own." Livi sniffles, fake crying. "They grow up so fast."

"You taught me everything I know." I console her, laughing at her dramatics. "Wish me luck. I'm going to listen to a bad bitch playlist and get pumped. Is it unprofessional to be a little tipsy in an interview?"

"It absolutely is. Can't say I would blame ya, but maybe be sober until after she tells you that you've got the job."

"You're so optimistic. Fine, I'll FaceTime you later. Have your wine and vodka ready. If I get the job, we're drinking wine. If I don't, we're taking shots of vodka."

"Fair enough. Love you, good luck."

"Love you."

When I'm ready and have listened to all the Cardi B songs that make me feel more powerful than I am, I leave for the interview.

The woman messaged me and told me to meet her in this hotel conference room. I assume that's where she's staying, since she briefly mentioned not being in the city for long and wanting to do the interview as soon as possible.