Champagne Life (19 page)

“Call me the man. Not only did I get the price back down to what you agreed to, D'Antonio gave you a discount for future parties.”

“Sqeeeeee!” She threw her arms around him and planted a big kiss on his cheek. “No way. Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“How'd you do that?”

“Nick D'Antonio is known for pulling crap like this. I'm surprised
no one has taken him to court, or better yet, punched his lights out. He is one lucky son-of-a-bitch.”

DeShaun purposely left out the part about him asking D'Antonio if he was hiring. It was embarrassing when Nick told him he would put his resume on file for future positions. Nick did look genuinely sorry when he told DeShaun he had just hired a guy. Eight months ago, Nick mentioned he had an opening at his restaurant. Back then, DeShaun had barely given it a second thought since he had a job.

The entire ride back, Jenn kept complimenting him, telling him how grateful she was and that she would have never been able to pull this off without him.

“I was at the point where I wanted to hide in my room for the rest of the evening,” Jenn said. “What a great birthday, huh?”

DeShaun knew about disappointing birthdays. “On my eleventh birthday,” he said, “my father promised to bring me a bike. It would've been cool if he actually came through.”

“What happened?”

DeShaun shrugged. “He never showed up. Didn't see him for another few years after that. Not once did he ever mention the bike. Now
that's
a sucky birthday.”

When they pulled up to the Herjavecs' front drive, the catering vans were already parked out front. DeShaun spotted M.J. directing the guys to bring the platters to the back yard.

“I don't know what you said to those jerks,” Jenn said. “But whatever it was, it worked.” She reached inside her purse and pulled out a stash of bills fastened together with a gold money clip. Her initials,
JiW,
were engraved on the front of the clip. The “i” was dotted with a tiny diamond.

“What's your middle name?” DeShaun asked.

Jenn looked puzzled. “Why would you ask me that?”

He nodded toward her money clip. “Your clip, there.”

“Oh, that. My full name is Jennifer Ingrid Herjavec. Ingrid sounds like a little Dutch girl, doesn't it?”

“It sounds nice to me.”

“What's your middle name?” Jenn asked.

“I don't tell anyone my middle name.”

“Oh, c'mon, I told you mine.”

“Nope.”

“Please?”

The last time his middle name was mentioned, he was pummeling some kid in the fourth grade with his fists. “It's Ashton. You satisfied?”

“Really? You're lying.”

“Seriously. It's Ashton.”

“I like it.”

“You're saying that now,” DeShaun said. “But once you think about it, you're gonna laugh.”

“It suits you.”

“Thanks.”

She reached down and pulled a one-hundred dollar bill from the money clip. “Take this for your troubles.”

He didn't do this for the money. He was only trying to help out. “You don't have to do this.”

“If it wasn't for you, I'd be serving cheese and crackers tonight.”

DeShaun didn't want to take the money, but then he thought of Naomi. Technically, this is why he was here in the first place,
The Plan.
He took the money from her fingertips. “I appreciate it.”

She hopped out of the truck. “Good. Now let's hurry and get this party over with. I want to go to bed.”

DeShaun jumped down from the driver's side. “Oh, by the way, Happy Birthday.”

Jenn grinned. “You know, you are the first person to tell me that today?”

“What about your hu—” DeShaun stopped mid-sentence, already realizing the answer to that question. “Sorry.”

“Don't be. I don't care anymore. Apparently, he doesn't either.”

DeShaun took the money and shoved it into his back pocket. He watched her disappear through the front door before he headed off in the opposite direction to the backyard to help set up.

“
C
an I borrow your phone?” I asked, once Jeremy pulled out of the driveway.

He nodded toward the glove box. “It's in there.”

I reached over and opened up the glove box. I found the phone, but that wasn't all I found. “Wow, what's this?” I held up a sealed condom. “And Magnum, too?”

“That's not mine.”

“You guys are still using that line? Let me guess. It's your boy's and you were holding it for him.”

Jeremy grinned. “Whatever.”

“Hey, you're single. It's allowed,” I said. “Speaking of which, whatever happened to that young girl from the Paoli branch? Last I heard, you two were hitting it off.”

“That's just it. She's too young.”

“So are you.”

“You and I are the same age. Lilonique was like twenty.”

“Lilonique?”

“Don't hate 'cause of her ghetto name.”

“I'm not,” I said. “It's not ghetto, really. It's…original.”

“Yeah, and so is Chlamydia and Moët—and don't you have a call to make?”

I dialed DeShaun's number. “Yes, I do.” The phone rang three times before his voicemail came on. I lowered my voice. “Hey, baby.
I just wanted to tell you that I am on my way to an interview, so even though I didn't talk to you, I know you're wishing me luck. Hope everything turns out okay for your party. Love you.” I hung up.

“You two have been married for a while?” Jeremy asked.

“Four years.”

“I would love to have had a few years of marriage under my belt by now.”

“My suggestion to you is to take your time. Make sure you find the right person. Believe me, marriage isn't all that it's cracked up to be.”

“I know all that,” Jeremy said. “But you always have someone there to be with you.”

I nodded. “That's true, but the downside of that is, you always have someone there to be with you.”

“What does that mean?”

“They are
always
there. I left my parents' house and moved into a place by myself. I met DeShaun almost immediately and a year later, we got married.”

“Do you have any regrets about getting married?” Jeremy asked.

“Honestly, marriage sometimes feels like a job, only on this job, there are no long lunches, calling out sick or hiding at the vending machine when your boss gets on your last nerve.

“You must be referring to my aunt at the bank.”

I grinned. “Maybe.”

We pulled up to the train station. When we got to the ticket counter, he stepped before me and asked for two tickets downtown.

I reached into my purse. “You don't have to pay for me.”

“I'll get this. After the interview—and when you get the job—you can pay for lunch.”

“Heck no. Lunch costs more.”

He turned back to the guy at the ticket counter. “One, please. She'll purchase her own.”

I playfully smacked him on the back.

“Hey, if I'm paying for lunch, I'll have to save my money. You forget, I've seen you eat.” He turned back to the guy at the counter. “I'm kidding. I'll have two tickets, please.”

The guy handed Jeremy two tickets. “Better hurry up. The train is about to leave.”

We rushed to the train, stepped on and took a seat. Within seconds, the doors closed and we were off.

The train ride seemed excruciatingly long. Between the Bryn Mawr and the Wynwood stops, I kept checking my watch. It was getting late. I didn't want the bosses to leave before I even had the chance to interview. By the time we reached 30th Street Station, I was fidgeting so badly, Jeremy pulled out his cell and offered to call his friend to let her know we were on the way.

“Would you?”

He dialed. I watched, hopefully, as he talked to his friend at the company. He was laughing and joking with her, so I assumed everything was okay. When he hung up, he turned to me. “Tanya said don't bother. They just left.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, panicked. “Now what?”

“I'm kidding. Would you relax? If you don't you'll go into that interview nervous and sweaty. They're going to take one look at you and yell, ‘NEXT!'” He yelled it so loud, a few people surrounding us on the train, looked at us.

I took a deep breath. “I know but I really need this to work out.”

“Finances that bad, huh?”

I cocked my head to the side. “Why do you say that?”

“You asked me about my financial situation a couple of times.”

“Really? I didn't realize. I'm sorry. I was curious, I guess.”

“Don't worry about it. It's cool.”

When we stepped off the commuter train, Jeremy led and I followed. We weren't running, but we kept up a fast pace as we skipped up the depot steps and out into the street. The day was beautiful. The beating sun was hot against our skin, but the cool summer breeze made the temperature just right. I wished I was spending the day shopping or leisurely heading to one of the cozy bookstores on Market Street. Instead the bright, beautiful day was overshadowed by fear and nervousness. I really wanted this job.

No, I
needed
this job.

We headed into the high-rise building and took the elevator to the twelfth floor. When he saw his friend, Tanya, at the front desk, his face lit up, and he smiled. “Hey! Long time no see.”

Tanya was a cute girl that looked tiny, sitting behind the large oak desk. Her cropped hair had golden highlights running through it, just like mine.

“This is Naomi,” Jeremy said.

“Hi.” She gave a friendly smile. “The bosses are waiting for you. Good luck.” She seemed nice enough.

“You got this,” Jeremy reassured. “You look good. Now let the confidence shine through.”

I turned and headed toward the large double doors. “I'll be back in a few minutes.” My feet started sweating inside my Nordstrom black heels and my head started throbbing. I felt lightheaded, like I wanted to throw up. I struggled to take a deep breath. Those were definitely not good signs to have when going into an interview.

“How did it go?” Jeremy was standing at the exact spot he was when I walked into the interview—at his friend, Tanya's desk.

I shook my head. “I didn't get it.”

“How do you know?” Tanya asked. “They normally have second and third interviews before deciding.”

“Thanks for the information,” I said shortly. “But I don't know you like that to be telling all my business.”

Jeremy gave me a look, but said nothing. He turned to Tanya. “Sorry about that.”

My head was spinning and my stomach was turning. “Can we go? I'm tired and not feeling well.”

Jeremy turned back to Tanya. “I'll call you later.”

“Okay.”

We were a block from the train depot before either one of us said anything. “What the hell happened in there?” Jeremy finally asked. “And why were you so rude? Tanya was only trying to help.”

I stopped walking and bent over, trying to catch my breath. “I know. When you talk to her apologize for me.” I took in several deep breaths. “I seriously don't feel well. I need to sit down.”

Jeremy grabbed my elbow and steered me over toward an empty bench. “Is it the same thing as last time?”

I nodded. I was seeing spots, my head was hurting, and it felt like I was gasping for breath.

Jeremy stood up, looking for someone. “I should get help.”

I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down onto the bench. “No. I just need a second.” I took in several more deep breaths. Eventually, the sharp pain in my head started to subside. I took in one last deep breath. I finally felt okay.

“Do you still want to go out to lunch?” he asked. “Maybe food will help.”

I shook my head. I couldn't even think about eating right now. “I just want to go home.”

“Okay.”

We made our way down the last block to the train depot. “Do you have a second interview?”

I slowly shook my head, fighting back the tears. “It didn't work out.”

I didn't want to admit that when I walked into the interview, I was a hot mess. Aside from feeling like crap, my confidence was shattered. Three men and a woman, dressed in pristine business attire, sat across from me at a long desk. I hadn't interviewed much since I only had two jobs in my lifetime, but, at the very least, I used to have confidence in my abilities. Today, I didn't. I felt like a loser who didn't deserve this job. Instead of encouraging me, my tiny inner voice kept repeating,
You aren't good enough, you aren't good enough.
When one of the men asked me a simple question, such as what qualified me for the position, I had no answer. Like them, I sat there, waiting for an answer to come, but it never did. I was surprised I even remembered my own name.