The Edge Of A Beg | Jamie Cook

one

"Are you even listening? I'm not fucking going there!"

"I am listening! It's all I do," I retort back. "I told you I can't go there alone, Connor. I need a date. Who else can I ask?"

"Well, don't go at all," he replies with the smartass tone I hate.

I heave out a sigh, pinching my nose. Most of the time, I strongly consider wrapping my hands around his throat.

Thunder rumbles above my head, as if the Gods agree—or disagree—with me. There isn't much that could make today worse.

"You don't understand—"

"Yeah, you need to show people you matter," he cuts me off, a mix of exhaustion and frustration lacing his words. "I gathered that."

I force myself to brush it off. "Please, come with me. We can stay an hour and leave right after. But I can't take the risk of missing that chance. I've waited too long."

It makes it ten times worse that my father has given clear instructions to the staff. I'm just not admitted at all, no matter the clothes I'll wear or even the people I'll show up with. He wants to avoid any drama related to me. Not like I planned on causing a scene in public or anything. Surely there's a reason; I just want to know why.

A week ago, I learned that the American pole of the firm my father owns is looking for its new boss. I'm his only daughter; surely it will be mine. Still, this New Year's dinner with the entire business is my last chance at getting it. After all, it's practically the only reason why I'm working here.

By infiltrating the firm itself, I'll be able to show I'm worth the job.

How? I don't truly know yet. I just need to find a date for now.

I also discovered that the world of music isn't that bad, but that's something else. Yet, as the days pass, I don't have a single clue on how to handle the matter. Maybe I'll never have the strength to go, and I'll never get to tell him I deserve this position more than anyone else.

"For the last fucking time, I can't," Connor painfully brings me back to our central issue: his complete lack of empathy. "There must be someone at the office willing to sacrifice themselves for you."

"Sacrifice? That's just dinner!"

Silence.

More silence.

I glance down at my screen, only met with the blank picture of my background.

He hung up.

"Asshole!" I whisper-shout—or most likely just shout—and throw my phone in my purse before hiding my eyes behind my damp palms. When I start seeing stars, I drop my hands and take a deep breath. Anyone seeing me through the windows would think me mad. Truly, I'm starting to be.

Realising that standing in the middle of the parking lot with these dark clouds above my head can make this day a definitive curse, I take off my heels, my feet hitting the sharp gravel. The smell of the rain is stronger than this morning, and something about the heavy dampness in the air makes me feel strange. Maybe it's just the phone call weighing on me.

I step off the curb and cross the parking lot, searching for my keys in my bag at the same time. I ignore my phone buzzing the first time. The second time, I pull it out again and aggressively decline the call. There's a text from Connor telling me not to take this the wrong way, and that he'll do his best to come the next time. He still hasn't understood there won't be a second time.

I type a few responses that sound too hostile, erase them and think. Funny how I've looked forward to this day for such a long time that it seems distant now. This notion of time has always captivated me anyway.