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.You just slice and dice the words, reassemble them, read and re-read, get the book into its best possible shape, and put it out there.”“When can I read it?”“The day it’s finished.You’re a great proofreader.” Her eyes widened.“Hello.This town is filled with publishers.Have you considered that avenue?”“I’m a business grad.They want English majors from Harvard.”“I wouldn’t rule it out.You can do anything.I’ve always told you that.”“You’re the best.I love you.”“I love you, too.It’ll get better.”“I hope so.It’s only the first week of August, and this is my seventh interview this month.”“Lucky seven.Now, go and take the hairdryer to yourself.Put it on cool, blot your face with a clean towel, and air yourself off.I’m giving you money for a cab, and I won’t take no for an answer.Seriously.Don’t even start with me.You need air conditioning.If this new book takes off, I’ll buy us one for the apartment.”If this new book takes off, I’m afraid I’ll lose you, which is another reason I have to find a job.“OK,” I said.“But you need to let me pay you back for the cab when I get a job.”“Fine.Whatever.Now, scoot.Your appointment is in ninety minutes.Traffic might be tight.”CHAPTER TWOWith my briefcase in hand, I left our sorry-looking apartment building on East Tenth Street, and stepped into the baking sun.Thankfully, at least, there was a breeze, which was rare these days.For the past month, Manhattan had been an airless sauna with the coals stacked high and some fool pouring ladles of water over them in a successful attempt to keep the air miserably moist.I looked down the street for a cab, and, to my surprise, I didn’t have to wait long to find one.I held out my hand, the driver spotted me, pulled toward the curb, and I stepped into the back seat, relieved to find that the air conditioning was turned to full blast.I positioned myself so the cool air flowed over me, and I took a breath.It felt wonderful.“Fifth and Forty-Eighth,” I said to the driver, an older woman with a shock of red hair that was clipped close.“The Wenn Enterprises building.Or as close as you can get me to it for twenty dollars.”The woman looked at me in the rearview mirror with a raised eyebrow.“I’ll do my best.You know how it is during the lunch hour.”“Whatever you can do, I appreciate it.And please make sure you leave room for a tip.Unfortunately, five dollars is all I can afford.”“Don’t worry about the tip,” the woman said.“Some nice young man just gave me a twenty for a five-dollar fare.We’ll take yours out of that.”I met the woman’s eyes in the mirror.Sometimes, this city surprised me with its kindness.“Thank you.”“Just paying it forward, sweetie.Now, you do the same today.OK?”“Deal.”And yet another reason why I love it here.Now, if I can just stay here.I’ve got to get this job.We crossed over to Sixth Avenue, the driver hooked a left past the First Republic Bank and Jerri’s Cleaners, and we started to move uptown.I kept my gaze fixed on the meter noticing how quickly we were burning through the money Lisa gave me when I left.Already, we were at eight dollars and counting.In this traffic, I’d be lucky if she got near Sixth and Fortieth Street, let alone Fifth and Fortieth.And I was right.By the time we reached Thirty-Eighth Street, my twenty dollars was gone.“This is fine,” I said.“I can walk from here.”“You going back to work?”“I wish I had work.I’m going for an interview.I think this is about my hundredth interview in the past few months.”“Looking like you do, I’d think someone would hire you in a minute.”Before I could deflect the compliment, the woman pressed a button.A receipt started to print, and she clicked off the meter.“Can’t show up looking like a mop, now can you? No one’s going to hire a mop.Don’t worry about it.The fares uptown always pay.I’ll make up for it.”“You’re incredibly kind.”“Just paying it forward.I know what it’s like trying to find a job in this rotten economy.Still pulling myself out of it.I take it you’re not from here?”“I’m from Maine.Moved here in May.”“Without a job?”“Just one of the many stupid things I’ve done in my life.There’s so much to offer here, I thought it would be easy to find work.Well, at least easier than finding work in Maine, where there are zero jobs.”“Nothing’s easy in New York, sweetie.But pay it forward.Every day do someone a kindness.You’ll see.Things will turn around for you.They did for me.”When we pulled alongside Wenn Enterprises, which was a gleaming, modern skyscraper that seemed to catch the sun and toss it back to kiss the sky, the woman adjusted her rearview mirror so I could look into it.“Do you have a compact?”“I do,” I said.I lowered my head and saw why she asked—despite the air conditioning, my face was shiny.I opened the right side of my briefcase and removed one.“I’d blot.”“Blotting.”“Under the eyes.”“Eyes.”“Don’t forget your neck.”“Neck.”“Now, kill the interview.”“You must have some very lucky children.”“I’m the lucky one,” the woman said, taking the twenty I handed her.“I remind myself of that every day.”CHAPTER THREEOnce inside the lobby, which was a hive of activity as people stepped into and out of elevators and crisscrossed in front of me, I approached the reception area.I was so nervous that my heels sounded to me like drum taps on the marble floor.A man looked up at me.“I’m Jennifer Kent,” I said.“I have an interview with Barbara Blackwell.”“Ms.Blackwell?”“Sorry.Yes, Ms.Blackwell.”He typed something into his computer, read the screen, picked up the phone that was next to him, and made a call.“Jennifer Kent to see Ms.Blackwell.Shall I send her up? I understand that she’s early, but she’s nevertheless here.Thank you.”He hung up the phone and motioned toward the elevators.“Fifty-first floor.Take a right when the doors open.You’ll find a sitting area to your left.You’re early.Wait there for a bit, and Ms.Blackwell’s assistant will come for you.”“Thank you,” I said.“Sorry I’m early.”“Better than late,” he said.* * *When the doors opened, I steeled myself and stepped into the hallway.I saw the sitting area, went to it, and found it packed.There was no room to sit down.Fourteen faces looked up at me, eyes roamed over me, and one fat man stuffed into a gray business suit that barely contained his girth smiled suggestively at me.“Excuse me,” someone said as they brushed past me in the narrow hallway.“Sorry.”“Right.”Christ.“Julie Hopwood?”I turned and saw a middle-aged woman standing next to me.“No, I’m Jennifer—”“I’m Julie Hopwood,” a pretty brunette sitting next to the fat man said [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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