Page 46 of Finding Mr. July

F or the company event, Rachel talks me into going as Sandy from Grease to her Rizzo. My hair is curled, and I’m wearing all black beneath a shiny pink bomber jacket. I’ve also brought a pair of sunglasses, both to achieve the right attitude and to hide behind when Manny makes the announcement.

GCL has rented out the same bar in our building where we had the anniversary party six weeks ago, so as soon as I step inside, I’m flooded with memories from that night.

I scan the bar for Jonathan, but unless he’s in an inflatable T.

rex costume, he’s nowhere to be seen, and somehow I doubt that would be his choice of getup.

In fact, I can’t imagine him dressing up at all, which means he’ll probably show up in his regular black clothes looking like… Danny Zuko.

Wait a minute—did Rachel plan this?

“Holly, over here.” Ashley waves to me from one of the booths by the window. She’s Cleopatra to match Eric’s Caesar.

Letitia is in a gray wig and black flowy robes with a white collar. “RBG,” she says when I sit down, pointing at herself. “Thought you’d get a kick out of that.”

“It’s good,” I agree. A server comes by with a tray of complimentary champagne glasses, so I snag one and down half of it.

“Looks like someone’s nervous,” Callum says from behind his Batman mask.

“I think we all are.” Letitia glances toward the small stage. “I wish they’d get it over with.”

“That’s the beauty of knowing you don’t stand a chance,” Ashley says, holding her hand horizontal in front of her. “See. Zero nerves.”

“Next time, babe.” Eric kisses her cheek. “I believe in you.”

Soon the two of them have retreated into their own world, leaving Letitia, Callum, and me to entertain ourselves, but the conversation never takes off. We’re opponents tonight, and as much as we’ve gotten along until this point, the fact that only one of us can win overshadows everything else.

I breathe a sigh of relief when Rachel finally shows up and rescues me. Not only do I prefer her company, but her costume also lends logic to mine. I let her guide me to the bar and order me a glass of wine.

Still no sign of Jonathan.

“Looking for someone?” Rachel asks when I’ve swiveled my head for the third time.

I have a sip of my chardonnay to avoid answering, but she is, as always, perceptive. And persistent.

“Did he tell you he’d be here?”

“I think you forget that we’re still not speaking.”

“He helped you in the garage the other day.”

“Because he’s not an asshole.” I glance toward the door again.

“You want him to be here,” Rachel says when I turn back to the bar. “Does that mean you’re not mad at him anymore? Have you forgiven him?”

I sigh. “I don’t know. Ask me again after they announce the winner.

” When she doesn’t respond other than to lift one of her brows, I add, “I suppose I thought, since we worked on this together, we’d deal with the outcome together.

I know it’s stupid since there’s no ‘together’ anymore, but I don’t know—I was really hoping he’d show. ”

Rachel’s face scrunches into a look of deepest sympathy as she pets my shoulder. “Damn, you’ve still got it bad.”

“Do not.” I look away to hide the intense blinking I’m forced to do to save my makeup.

She pulls me into a one-armed hug that only makes things worse. “Whatever you say.”

The microphone squeals with feedback. It’s time.

“Thank you. Thank you very much,” Manny says with a Southern twang as his Elvis costume glitters in the light.

“I see you, Bob.” He points to the old custodian who is also dressed as the King.

“Good choice, my man.” He takes the microphone off the stand and grins.

“Good evening, beautiful people. Oh, I just love Halloween, don’t you? ”

Everyone claps. I put on my sunglasses.

“Tonight is about having fun and enjoying each other’s company. A chance to kick back before we enter the holiday season, which we’re going to make our best ever this year, am I right?”

More applause.

“But before we can do that, we have five people in here dealing with more suspense than most of you, and I am going to put them out of their misery right this minute.”

“Please don’t call us up onstage this time,” I mumble.

Rachel takes my hand.

“We’ve been crunching numbers all afternoon, and at this time, I can tell you that… we have a winner.”

“Woohoo,” Eric hoots from the booth.

“Yes, indeed.” Manny grins. “But first let me say that you are all winners in my book.” He takes care to find us in the crowd, one at a time.

“It was close, folks. Five fantastic fundraising efforts that will contribute to GCL’s mission in the year to come.

I am honored and privileged to have worked with you. ”

“Get to it,” a random voice shouts from behind me at the bar. DaVon.

Everyone laughs.

“Yeah, yeah.” Manny pulls a piece of paper from his back pocket and skims over it. Then he looks up again.

Rachel squeezes my hand. “You’ve got this.”

Despite my misgivings, my heart picks up speed. Maybe there is a small chance after all.

“In fifth place, but with the biggest social media engagement of the group—Ashley.”

Hoots and whistles follow. Ashley stands and takes a bow.

“Well done, and we wish you the best of luck.” Manny consults his note again. “In fourth place, we’ve got… Callum. Almost there. Keep at it.”

Callum smiles, but even from across the room, I can tell his gracious loser face could use some practice. His cheeks flush red, and he looks down. If I were him, I’d have kept my Batman mask on.

“Aw, I feel bad,” Rachel whispers.

“In third place… Drumroll, please.” Manny makes a sputtered noise with his lips. “This person actually raised the highest gross amount of the five but came in third once expenses were accounted for. A great learning experience for anyone in this field. Congratulations to… Eric!”

Rachel and I look at each other. Holy shit. That only leaves Letitia and me. I down the rest of my wine and scan the space for Jonathan one last time. No luck. He must be adamant not to see me.

The crowd quiets.

“And so,” Manny continues, “after six weeks of intense planning and hard work, and with a net profit of a respectable sixteen thousand eight hundred thirty-six dollars, the winner of this fundraising challenge is…”

“Come on, come on, come on,” Rachel chants under her breath next to me.

Manny raises a glass of champagne someone has handed him. “Our new Glasgow office program liaison—Letitia Fowler!”

The restaurant erupts in cheers and felicitations with a large faction of the room crowding around the booth where Letitia is currently crying tears of joy.

Manny taps the mic and adds, “And let’s give a hand to our runner-up, Holly King. Well done, Holly. It was close!” He tips his glass in my direction.

I don’t know if other people hear him over the ruckus, and it doesn’t really matter. It’s done. I lost. As predicted.

“Can we get a refill here?” Rachel asks the bartender. “On second thought, let’s make it something stronger.”

Before I know it, I have something golden over ice in front of me. I down it in one go, appreciating the burn. “Thanks,” I tell her. “It’s not like I didn’t know it was coming.”

She watches me, a concerned wrinkle between her brows. “Will you be okay?”

“Always.” I jump down from my chair. “I’ll be right back. I need to go congratulate Letitia.”

I make my way through the crowd to where my fellow interns are holding court but hang back until most people return to their tables. Then I take off my sunglasses and put on my biggest smile, which isn’t that difficult. I am happy for her. She’s worked hard for this.

“So proud of you,” I tell her as we embrace. “You’ll do great.”

“I wish we could both win,” she says. “My mom is going to flip about me moving.”

Callum scoots in on the bench seat to make room for me. “Have a drink with us. Might be the last time.”

“No way,” Ashley protests. “We have two more weeks before we’re officially done.”

I sit down and flag a server. “I’ll still have a drink now. I’m not going to lie—I really wanted it.”

“Me too,” Eric says. “It was the damn catering. It ate too much of the profits.”

“For me, not enough people bought wine after doing tastings,” Callum says. “I overestimated.”

“And I’m sure you know I missed my printer deadline,” I add. “Letitia, what’s your secret for being so organized and perfect?” I flutter my lashes, and they laugh.

“Seriously, I feel like I got lucky everything worked out. And I’m excited that we got so many trees planted. The Duwamish River Valley needs a lung badly, and with new cedars and firs framing the river, air quality will improve for generations to come.”

“I’ll toast to that.” Eric raises his glass.

We do the same, joining together to celebrate Letitia’s effort, and for a few moments, I manage to forget the pickle I’m in.

But then Letitia asks everyone what they plan to do next, and reality comes crashing down. When it’s my turn, I tell them the first thing that comes to mind—that I have an interview lined up at a law firm in Texas. After all, it could be true if I wanted it to be.

“I knew it,” Callum says. “Once you reach a certain age, it’s too hard to change tracks.”

Eric slaps him on the shoulder.

Ashley levels him with an icy glare. “You did not just say that.”

“What?” Callum lifts his hands in defense. “I didn’t say she’s old. I meant she’s used to a different lifestyle.”

I lean in to temper the upset. “Guys, it’s fine. He’s not completely wrong. But it mainly has to do with my parents and my brother. I’m basically helping him raise my niece, so…” Slight exaggeration, but whatever.

The others nod along.

“You’ll have to let us know how the interviews go,” Letitia says. “Are you excited about it?”

“Sure.” I force a smile.

“Good, that makes me feel better about winning. Leaving my family on the other hand…” She grimaces with clenched teeth.

Callum’s and Letitia’s words stay with me throughout the evening because the truth is that standing in front of the unknown at this point in my life does feel different than it did ten years ago.

My capacity for remaining energized in the face of failure is not infinite anymore.

I’m not so jaded that I don’t recognize that the unknown inherently brings a chance of possibilities, but with it comes risk.

A gamble. And look where that’s left me—unemployed and heartbroken.

Maybe what I need is the safe option. Staying with my family. Giving the career I’ve spent the better part of my adult life on another chance. I’m wiser to the pitfalls now—I won’t ever get involved with a coworker again. And like Jude said, not all firms are bad.

The more I think about it, the more sense it makes—to go back to what I know, back to something I’m good at, away from Washington and Jonathan and disappointment.

Why struggle with fitting a square peg into a round hole if I don’t have to?

Plus I’ll have Jude to vouch for me in lieu of a reference from Heckles the law never rests.”

I do know that. The prospect is suddenly more real, but I tell myself that’s good. I can make this work. Idealism is not without merit, but I’ve always prided myself on living in the real world, which is what this is. All the signs point this way.

All the signs except maybe the single-word text waiting for me when I turn on my phone Sunday morning. It’s from Jonathan, and all it says is Sorry .