by Cate Lawley
She really had to get a grip. Mostly, though, she had to get out of here. She grabbed her phone and typed in a text: Busy?
Chapter 9
Zelda clutched her keys in her hand, hesitant to hand them to Mark. “You’re sure you don’t mind driving my car?”
“As long as my car won’t get towed—not at all.” He held his hand out. “Really. Besides, I feel responsible.”
Zelda snorted. After they’d both climbed into the car, she said, “This was no one’s fault but mine. Oh, no. Here it is: The lunch crowd’s coming.” She sank lower into her seat, as if that would hide her from curious eyes. It had to be all over the office by now, and curiosity had to be raging. She’d guess her termination was about on par with the time the old office manager’s two ex-girlfriends came looking for him at work—together. The women had been colorful in their language, dress, and accusations. And Randy hadn’t lasted the day.
“So, how about Mexican and a margarita?” Mark didn’t linger. He’d already adjusted his seat and rearview mirror and was pulling out of the parking space.
She loved a decisive guy. At least she did as of thirty seconds ago. “Mexican is great.” She tipped her chin down and to the side so her hair covered her face.
“It’s clear. We’re about three streets away from your office.”
Zelda sat up and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Okay. Super embarrassing, and hiding doesn’t help. Everyone knows what car I drive; the office isn’t that big.”
“You going to tell me what happened? Given our recent conversation about your job, I feel I may have influenced you.”
“Well, if you did, it was only to get me to grow a spine.” Zelda glanced at him and noticed his shoulders were a little tense. He’d lost some of the ease that he normally exuded. “Really. It’s definitely all good. I told off my boss.”
Mark stopped at a light and turned to look at her, his surprise evident. “That I wouldn’t have predicted. I thought you were stuck in the land of inertia?”
“Nope. Not only am I not stuck, I exited with undue speed.” Zelda laughed. The further from the office they drove, the easier she could breathe. Each mile was that much closer to a better future. Hopefully.
“Was there yelling?”
“Nope.”
“Profanity?”
“Nope.”
“Physical violence?”
“None.”
“Well, look at you. Well done.”
Zelda giggled, possibly with a tinge of hysteria. Or maybe it was euphoria. “I’ll take that compliment, kind sir.”
They lapsed into a much more comfortable silence. She’d shaken some of the embarrassment, and he’d relaxed. It was almost like having Kitty home again.
As Mark opened the door for Zelda, he hoped there wasn’t a wait. He had an appointment with a client midafternoon, and he didn’t want to feel rushed over lunch. Even though he had a busy afternoon ahead, he was glad for the opportunity to spend more time with Zelda. He had fun when they were together, and he knew she could use a friend. She’d said as much on their first platonic coffee date. But more than that, he truly knew what it was like to be alone. To be different. To want more—or in his case less—but not know how to start or where to go. He could feel those things in her, an echo of himself not so long ago.
The hostess asked how many people were in their party.
Mark pulled himself back to the present. “Two. A booth?” He looked at Zelda for confirmation and she nodded.
Once they were seated and the hostess had gone, Zelda said, “I quit with brutal—” Her eyes widened “—I mean brutal honesty. I was also very specific.”
Mark wasn’t getting a panicked vibe from her. That was good. It looked like she truly had kicked inertia in the butt. “Brutal honesty could go a number of ways. Given your earlier…” He couldn’t find the right word. Panic? Distress?
“Hysteria. It’s okay, you can say it.”
He shrugged. “That seems a little harsh. You seemed unsettled, but not even close to hysterical.”
“Tell my shaking hands that. I truly didn’t think I was safe to drive—hence my text to you. Anyway, I told my boss he wasn’t qualified for my job, let alone his. Then followed up that zinger with something along the lines of ‘And stop eyeballing every woman in the office under the age of forty, because we’re not interested. Really, really not interested.’ And then I got my second wind and told him he should pick out his wife’s birthday presents and anniversary gifts himself even if he had terrible taste and that everyone in the office knew he stole food from the employee’s fridge. And before he could lose his bananas, I told him I quit and that if I wasn’t a lady, I’d tell him where exactly he could shove his demeaning, underpaid job.” She blinked. “I mean, I’m summarizing. But that’s the gist.”
“Wow. I knew you had some resentment. That was clear when we talked yesterday, but that’s…that’s....” He shook his head. A little crazy, sprang to mind. But clearly not an appropriate response. And he was proud of her, so telling her she had acted like a nut didn’t seem the best way to convey that.
“A heaping, overflowing roomful of resentment. Yeah.” She stretched to sit up tall and peered over his shoulder. “Yum. I love the chips here. They make them fresh, so they show up at the table hot.”
Mark glanced over his shoulder to find their waiter approaching with chips and salsa.
Once the waiter had left, they dug into the chips. After they’d both eaten a few, Zelda gave him a weird look and asked, “You don’t dip your toast in coffee, do you?”
He shook his head. “Sounds disgusting.”
“Right? Only a crazy person would do that.”
“Uh, how about someone with unique tastes? So, what about the rest of the story?” Mark figured the coffee question was a deflection.
“That’s pretty much it. I left, went to my office, and typed a one-sentence resignation letter. I was collecting my stuff when security showed up at my office door. I honestly have no clue if they walk out all ex-employees or if Rob the underachieving wonder boss had reported me as unstable or a security risk of some kind. Either way, it was unnerving. Those guys are off-duty cops and they carry very large, very scary guns.” She wrinkled up her nose and tipped her head to the side. “HR sent Ted, and we’re actually pretty friendly—but still, being escorted out of the building by a guy with a gun is freaky, even if the guy is a peach.”
“Is that what had you so freaked out?”
“Hmm? Oh, gosh no. Ted really is a nice guy, big gun and all. No, I got to the car, and I realized I didn’t have a job.”
Mark tried to get a read, but was coming up blank. Now she gets better about not projecting her emotions? “Quitting your job does tend to have that effect.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m saying that it hit me. I had no job. I didn’t have to get up in the morning and drag myself to a place I didn’t like, only to then work with people I didn’t particularly care for, doing things I didn’t find remotely interesting or rewarding.”
“All good news in my book.”
“Right, because you have a job you like. I have no aspirations, no dreams, and certainly no plans. And I never really worried about that before, because I had a job with regular income and that was enough. That is what flipped me out. I realized I have no job, no career, and no plan for one. And when inertia in a bad environment looks good because there is simply nothing—not even a glimmer—of another opportunity in your future, that’s a scary moment.”
“Fair enough. But like most problems, there’s a solution. We find your career. Your calling, so to speak.”
Zelda opened her mouth but nothing came out. She frowned and blew out an exasperated breath. “No problem. Let’s just whip up a career path for me while we eat tortilla soup.”
The waiter arrived on the heels of her comment, and asked, “Tortilla soup? Ours is excellent if you’re considering it. The cup is quite small, but many of our guests order the bowl fo
r lunch.”
Zelda closed her menu with a snap. “Sold. And a bowl sounds good.”
“Beef fajitas for one.” Mark saw Zelda waver, clearly tempted by the idea of fajitas. “Make that for two.”
Zelda changed her soup order to a cup and the waiter left.
“To answer your question: Yes, we’re going to brainstorm. If you want to.” He tacked on a qualifier as soon as he realized she might see his offer as pushing and not helping. Mark didn’t want to pressure her. She already felt pressured—by the situation and probably by her family and friends. And he knew what that felt like.
Zelda settled back against the booth cushions, stared at a point just over his right shoulder, and after a few seconds said, “Yep.” Lifting her hand to flag their server, she added, “But that calls for a margarita.”
After she’d ordered the Mexican martini recommended by their server, she pulled out a fancy compact spiral notebook with thick pages and a cute cover. “Money first, because that’s very much on my brain.”
Mark watched her start an outline. Her handwriting was surprisingly small and neat, almost masculine. He would have expected more of a flair. “Right. Do you have debt to maintain—student loans, credit cards? And what are your other fixed monthly expenses. I don’t need the amounts, just make notes.”
She shrugged. “Nothing unusual. I have rent, a car payment, and insurance. The rest—” her lips twisted and her eyebrows pinched together “—entertainment, clothes, savings—I’ll have to cut down.”
“No student loans? That’s awesome. I’ll be chipping away at mine for another five years or so.”
“I had a full ride scholarship.” Zelda rolled her eyes. “It’s this weird thing I got through my dad’s work. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to have no student debt. It’s just that it wasn’t like a regular scholarship where I had to apply and won because I had fabulous grades.”
“No debt and you live with your dad. Remind me again how you couldn’t afford to travel to Europe with your friend?”
“Hey, I told you: I pay rent. We moved into a bigger place two years ago, and that wouldn’t have happened without my contribution.” She chugged about half the martini glass.
He picked up the icy shaker of martini and topped off her drink. “You’re going to need a nap after this.”
“That’s the plan.” She tapped her pen on her notebook for emphasis.
“Europe?”
She put the martini glass down without taking a drink. “Right. Why Europe didn’t work out. I have savings, of course.”
“Of course.” He tried not to laugh. He’d had about twenty bucks in the bank after paying his bills every month when he was twenty-three. He used to scrounge change from under the sofa cushions to buy Taco Bell on the last day or two of the month.
“But I only had enough emergency cash for two months’ rent and a plane ticket to London.” She gave him a sad puppy dog look. “One way.”
She might be a little bit tipsy.
“On the up-side, it sounds like you probably have six to eight weeks of living expense money to get you through to the next job.”
She snorted. “You’re not supposed to spend emergency rent money, silly. It’s for emergencies.” Then she blinked, frowned, and said, “Oh, yeah. I guess being unemployed counts.”
Thankfully, the fajitas and tortilla soup arrived, because there was no longer any doubt. She was definitely tipsy.
Once the table was cleared, Zelda picked up her notebook and reviewed the notes she’d made. “Four weeks to find a job that minimally covers basic expenses—or I’ll go off-my-food bonkers worrying about paying rent.”
“Giving yourself an ulcer in the process,” Mark said.
He was finally getting it. Actually, that wasn’t fair. He’d understood from the very beginning that she was weirdly anxiousness about change and the idea of a career versus a job. He was simply so different—so confident and assured of his place in the grand scheme of things—that she couldn’t imagine he really understood. And yet he kept proving he did.
“I don’t know how you were so carefree about giving up regular income to start consulting.” Zelda shook her head and returned her attention to the list. “Possible fall-back positions to help with rent until I can get a longer-term plan: cashiering since I have experience from high school, and I worked as temporary help for a catering business through college.” She looked up. “You know, I bet they’d take me back now. It wasn’t a terrible job, and the people were fun. I’ll see if I can pick up a little work from them right away, and that will make my savings last longer.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get to the good stuff.” Mark crossed his arms and kicked back in his booth.
She’d started jotting down ideas with a few prompts from Mark at about the halfway point of their meal. Probably about the same time she’d gotten enough food in her stomach to slow down the effects of the scrumptious Mexican martini she’d guzzled. He’d shot off several helpful questions, and she’d written her answers down in her notepad. So he hadn’t actually seen her list.
“All right already. I’m just saying, the idea that I might not run out of money before I can blink is comforting. Even though rationally I know I won’t…anyway, here we go, moving to the long-term stuff. Would I rather work with people or mostly by myself? With people. My last office had a rotten working environment and the company had terrible corporate culture, but I’ve liked the service jobs I’ve had in the past and those were nothing but people and more people.”
“Okay. That’s a great start. You can work for yourself and have clients, or you can work in an office or retail space. Not wanting to be a hermit like me keeps your options pretty open.”
“You’re a hermit?” Zelda studied him. His freckles gave him a fresh, friendly look that was enhanced by the calm he always seemed to exude. “You’re always so comfortable in your own skin. I can’t imagine you being uncomfortable with people. If you’d asked, I’d have said you’re a people person.”
He shifted in his seat. “Maybe I’m just an introvert with an appropriate level of social skills.”
She frowned at him. “No. It’s more than that.” Wow—she must still be feeling the effects of that drink. Pushy to the point of rude wasn’t usually her thing. Except maybe with her dad—but that didn’t count. “Hey, sorry. It’s none of my business.”
He rubbed his jaw and got a faraway look, then his face cleared and he caught her gaze again. “Do you want the truth?”
It wasn’t a rhetorical question. He waited patiently for her to tell him yes or no. And that meant he was considering sharing a piece of deeply personal information or what he planned to tell her would change how she saw him. Maybe both.
She thought carefully, because a serious question deserved a thoughtful response. She didn’t want to lose his friendship—but she couldn’t imagine he was a serial killer, unkind to children or small animals, or was hiding any other friendship-killing secrets. He just wasn’t the type. “Yep. Go ahead.”
He didn’t immediately speak. In fact, was he embarrassed? The lighting wasn’t great, but she’d swear he was blushing.
She tilted her head and gave him a confused smile. “It can’t be that bad.” She widened her eyes. “Or are we talking Greek tragedy, epic story, bad?”
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No.” He opened his eyes, looked at her, and said, “So, I’m an empath.” He winced then added, “I can’t read minds or anything like that. Actually, most of the time it’s all just a bunch of white noise. Except when people yell…”
“Hmm. I didn’t know people could yell with their emotions.” She frowned when a troubling thought occurred. “Do I yell a lot?”
Mark laughed. Deep, loud, and rolling, the sound was surprising and contagious. He had a great laugh.
She grinned back at him and chuckled a little—she couldn’t help herself—but she hadn’t a clue what he found so entertaining.
“I just�
�” He laughed again. He rubbed his eyes and swallowed one last chuckle. “You’re amazing. I don’t tell anyone—I mean anyone—about that part of my life. Because I know they’ll get the wrong impression, judge me, or think I’ve gone off my meds.”
“Huh. Have you gone off your meds?” Zelda didn’t actually know much about empathic abilities. It wasn’t quite in the magical realm, so it hadn’t come up. But now that she thought about it, she could see how the skill could be problematic. Overwhelming, maybe. Possibly terrifying for a young child.
“I wish. There’s no medication that helps to block psychic empathy. That’s all done with discipline and control. Practice is the only thing that helps.” He shook his head again. “That’s it? It’s really no big deal to you?”
“That’s it.” Zelda skirted the reason she was so ready to accept the idea that he was psychic. She could hardly break the rules and spill the beans on the Grim Reaper, AKA Dad. “As for your superpower being no big deal—that depends. We’re talking general impressions? No specifics?”
“That’s right. No specifics, no mind reading. Oh, and, you only very occasionally yell. But it doesn’t really matter if you do. I didn’t lie when I told you I’m really good at reading body language. Anyone who’s projecting emotions so broadly that I have to try to block them, those are people I could read without any empathic talent.”
“So you have two superpowers. Cool. Also unfair. But definitely cool.” Zelda caught the waiter’s eye and motioned for the check. “I’m buying lunch today, by the way.”
“Says the unemployed woman. I don’t think so.”
“If you can play white knight and designated driver and career counselor all in one afternoon, the least I can do is buy lunch.” She grimaced. “But after today, we’re eating in.”
“There’s the girl I know.”
“Seriously, though. I really appreciate you picking me up. I don’t know what was going on. Not a panic attack.” She bit her lip. “Maybe it really was the aftereffects of a massive adrenaline rush. I’ve never told anyone off other than my dad and a close friend or two—and then only when I really thought they deserved it. I should respect the person I’m working for, right?”
