Page 78 of The Compass Series

AALIYAH

A nd now comes the part where I plead.

My stomach sat in knots as I rode the elevator up to the Passion Magazine office, where I would respectfully—okay, probably not—beg for my junior editor position back.

Now that I had no need to move to Los Angeles, I was trying to put my feet back on somewhat solid ground.

I was a New Yorker through and through, and what do New Yorkers do when life knocks them down?

We get back up and start swinging, too—knotted stomachs and all.

I was a bit shocked when my boss Maiv agreed to meet with me after I drunkenly emailed her at four in the morning due to a sleepless night.

Jason still hadn’t called me.

I knew that didn’t matter much, but for some reason, it hurt me. You would think the man who stood you up on your wedding day would at least send an LOL my bad, I overslept and missed our wedding text message of sorts.

Still, somehow his lack of communication was what kept my mind occupied the night before. I thought about where he could be, what he could be doing…who he could be doing.

Of course he was cheating on you, Aaliyah. Hasn’t history taught you anything? That’s what men do. Now, look at you—wasted a year of your life on a man who left. Your time is ticking. Tick, tick, tick…

“Shut up,” I muttered out loud to my own insensitive brain.

My thoughts had been in overdrive, trying to convince me that what had happened was all because of me—that I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t worthy of the happy ending, that I was bad at finding love that lasted…

that I didn’t have time to find a real love.

My thoughts were currently controlling me, and all I wanted was to be able to be in control of them instead, even if that meant sometimes muttering at myself to shut up.

I walked into the front lobby of Passion and saw Greta’s smiling face. She was the front desk receptionist, so I saw her face first each day I came into work for the past years.

“Hey there, sunshine,” she frowned, looking my way. She was invited to the wedding, so I was certain she knew of the outcome. “How are you doing?”

I smiled even though I didn’t mean it. “One step at a time.”

“I hate him,” she told me. “And I hope he has a miserable life.”

I wished I could’ve wished the same for him…even though my heart wasn’t there yet. All I wished was that he’d reach out and call me. “How’s Maiv’s mood today?” I asked, shifting the subject away from my failed attempt at getting wed.

“Mood is the same as it is every other day: The Devil Wears Prada Miranda Priestly.” Greta frowned. “Did you really use fifty-four exclamation points in the email you sent to beg for your job back?”

“What? No. It was fifty-two at most.”

She snickered. “You’re a brave woman for having enough nerve to even ask Maiv for your position back.”

“More like desperate, but here we go.”

“Godspeed,” Greta said before holding up her fingers like Katniss from The Hunger Games as a sign of her support and love. “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

I swallowed hard as I headed down the long walkway to Maiv’s office. Everyone in the space looked at me and gave me a mix of empathic expressions and shocked Girl, what are you doing? Run! looks. I didn’t know which one to listen to, so I kept walking.

Maiv’s office door was open, which wasn’t a normal occurrence. Still, I knocked on the doorframe to get her attention.

“Hi, Maiv. Is now still a good time to—” My words evaporated as she lifted her head in slow motion to look my way. Her green eyes hid behind a set of green frames, and her lips pressed together as she met my stare.

Then the oddest thing in the history of Maiv Sun happened—she smiled.

“Aaliyah, hi, yes. Do come in and close the door behind you.”

I swallowed hard and did as she said, unsure how to take her smile. I’d worked for the woman for years, and I’d never received a smile from her.

I took a seat across from her desk, and my heart sat uncomfortably in my throat.

Maiv smoothed her hands over her gray hair tucked in a perfect high bun, and she sat back in her chair, still staring my way. She picked up the pen from her desk and began twirling it between her fingers.

“So,” she started, “that was quite the wedding—or lack thereof.”

“You came,” I muttered.

“Of course, I came. I told you I was going to come. The ceremony space was very modern. You did a decent job, minus the whole no wedding thing.”

“Oh. Well…thanks?”

She nodded once. “I’m guessing you’re here because you want your job back.”

I tried to push my heart back down to its rightful place in my chest. Time to grovel. “Yes, ma’am. Even if I can’t go back to being a junior editor, I’ll take any position and work my way up to?—”

“You have connections with Connor Roe.”

I sat up a bit straighter, thrown off by her question. “What?”

“I noticed at your almost wedding that Connor Roe was in attendance. He’s the one who dismissed us all from the venue.”

“Uh…yes. I’m sorry, what does that have to do with?—”

“Why haven’t you ever told me you knew Connor Roe?”

What exactly was happening? “Um, I didn’t think it was of importance. Plus, I don’t really know him, know him, and?—”

“But he came to your wedding? How would you not know someone who was invited to your wedding?”

“I’m sorry, Maiv. I don’t understand what any of this has to do with my job and me getting it back…”

“Oh, yes. Well, I can offer you your position back?—”

“Oh, my gosh!” I exclaimed.

She held a silencing finger up. “If you do one thing for me.”

“Anything, Maiv. I’ll do anything.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” She leaned forward on her desk, dropped the pen, and clasped her hands. “I need you to get an exclusive with Connor Roe.”

I choked on my next breath. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Connor Roe is the biggest bachelor in New York City. He is on his way to being one of the richest men in all of New York, if not the world, and he has never once done an interview. Everyone in the industry is clawing at the opportunity to get him on their cover, but he’s refused all offers.”

Wow. Was Connor truly that successful? Jason had hardly ever talked about work people when we spent time together. Still, I didn’t see how I could help Maiv.

“Well, if he doesn’t want to be interviewed?—”

“Senior editor,” she cut in.

“What?”

“If you get Connor Roe to agree to an interview and to pose for the cover of our September issue, I will make you senior editor.”

No way. Senior editors always received the best projects.

They were able to travel and see the world.

Just a few months ago, Abby had been in Iceland following a story about an explorer for two months.

That was what I’d dreamed about, doing the big stories that allowed me to see the world at the same time, to experience different cultures, different lifestyles, to see lives bigger than my own.

“You mean it?” I pushed out, feeling as if I were dreaming. “I’d be able to travel for work and write the meaningful articles?”

“If you get Connor to do an exclusive with us, you can write whatever you want.” She held up a hand quickly. “Within reason, obviously.”

“Yes, of course.”

“So”—she narrowed her eyes—“you can do it?”

What was it about Connor that made people crave to be inside his brain so much? It was almost as if Maiv was begging me to get him to agree to the article. Well, as close to begging as she’d ever get, at least.

I nodded. “Yes, of course. Not a problem. I’ll have him on board ASAP.”

“By Friday.”

“Friday? Like…” I gulped hard. “This Friday? Like, in a few days?”

“Yes.”

“As in one, two, three?—”

“If you can’t make it happen, that’s all you have to?—”

“No! No! I can make it happen. It’s pretty much already happening.

There is no doubt in my mind that Connor Roe will be on the front cover of this magazine come this September.

Yup, that’s right because he and I are buddies.

Pals. Amigos. Friends. We’re pretty much Phoebe and Joey.

Yup, that’s us. Ketchup and mustard. Tom and?—”

“Aaliyah.”

“Yes?”

“You can leave my office now.”

“Right. Okay. Thank you, Maiv, for giving me this opportunity. This is my dream position, my dream job. I know I probably don’t deserve this at all after quitting, so thank you so much for doing this.”

“You said this is your dream job?”

“Yes, it really is.”

“Then I will say this. Something I’ve learned after five failed marriages: never give up your dreams for a man again. Men die—dreams don’t.”

“Uh, thank you?” I said, uncertain how to take Maiv’s pep talk. “Wait, I’m sorry, did all of your husbands die…?”

She shrugged. “Some are just dead to me. Some of the others I’m sure were accidental.”

“Some?”

She smiled again, and well, that felt like an inappropriate time to deliver a wicked villain smile. “Why are you still in my office?” she asked.

“Right, okay, goodbye.”

I walked out, feeling as if I was floating on air. After the week from hell, it appeared the sun was slowly trying to peek out from behind my clouded mind. I pretty much skipped all the way to the subway, humming to myself the entire time, until I took a moment to pause and reality set in.

I’d promised Maiv I would get Connor to do an exclusive interview with Passion . I’d promised an interview with a man who seemed to be anti-interviews as a rule, a man who’d already given me more of his time and kindness than I deserved.

I was hoping to never have to exchange another word with anyone connected to Jason ever again, yet without Connor’s help, I’d be jobless and probably homeless soon enough. With his help, I’d have my dream position.

It was time for me to do what it seemed I did pretty well as of late: grovel some more.