Beneath This Ink (Beneath #2)(9)

I sorted papers and filed until my desk was spotless. That much easier for packing up my stuff when I resigned my position. I hadn’t taken my diplomas off the wall, and my heart sank when I realized that if I followed through with my plan, that was exactly how I’d be ending my day.

I’d always regretted that my mother didn’t live long enough to see me become the skinny girl she’d always wanted me to be. The full effects of my late growth spurt hadn’t been readily apparent before she’d passed. In my grief, it had been hard to appreciate the extra five inches bestowed on me in less than a year. That vertical magic, combined with months of barely eating, had taken me from a chunky five-foot-three eighth grader to a willowy five-foot-eight high school freshman.

Well, now I suppose I ought to be grateful that she hadn’t lived long enough to see me leave the L.R. Bennett Foundation with my tail between my legs. A failure. It was especially hard to stomach because even when I’d been the chubby girl, I’d always been the smart girl. The straight A student. The one with the answers. And in this, I was admitting defeat. My melancholy attitude would require copious amounts of wine. And I already wanted to kick myself for being grateful that my mother wasn’t alive to see this. Who thought stuff like that? Me, apparently.

Elle interrupted my pathetic moment of self-reflection.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day. That shit has to stop.”

There were a lot of good things about working with your childhood best friend, but there were also some bad things. Like not being able to hide anything—personally or professionally—ever. She’d been the mastermind behind the plan of me begging Con. She’d also advocated the on-bended-knee-and-in-the-dirtiest-way-possible method, but I’d demurred.

Elle dropped into the chair across from my empty desk.

“I was going to stop by as soon as I delivered this to Archer.” I plucked a single sheet of paper from my credenza, and Elle snatched it out of my hand.

“Oh, f*ck me. You did not write your letter of resignation.”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to fight for this. Leave no stone unturned until we figure out a solution. And if we can’t figure something out, then you go to Archer, and you tell him that it was a legal problem. You explain that it wasn’t your fault, and you still deserve to run this place.”

“You know it won’t work like that. You know he’ll expect me to admit that running this project was more than I could handle, which means running the foundation is clearly too much for me to handle, which is just as good as tendering my resignation.”

Elle shook her head.

“I’m disappointed in you, Vanessa.”

Her words crushed my already battered self-confidence. “Thanks. I’m disappointed in me too.”

“Not because of the project, you idiot, but because you’re ready to walk away from your dream without even fighting for it.”

“I fought, Elle. I went to Con, and he said—”

“I don’t care what he said. You have to go back. I will not let you walk away from this. Besides, what do you really have to lose now, if you’re so sure you’ve already lost it all?”

I closed my eyes for a beat. “My pride.”

“I think you left that at the door when you did your walk of shame two years ago.”

“Thank you for the reminder,” I clipped out. As if I really needed one.

She stared me down. “Seriously, Vanessa. You’ve wanted to run this place for as long as I’ve known you. I don’t understand how you could give up so easily.”

My shoulders stiffened. “This isn’t easy. I’m trying to put the foundation first.”

Elle’s snapping brown eyes bored into me. “And you are what’s best for it. So go fix this shit and prove it.”

I exhaled a long breath before replying, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Good girl.” She slapped a small piece of paper on the desk in front of me. “And this is where it’s going to go down.”

My swirling emotions slowed in confusion. I looked down at the cream-colored embossed invitation. “The Boys and Girls Club Banquet?”

She produced several more sheets paper. “Here’s the guest list. And guess who’s on it.”

I grabbed it from her and stared at the highlighted name. “No way. Why would Con be going?”

Elle shook her head. “That’s a question you’re going to have to answer for yourself, because I think I’ve hit my limit of solutions for the day. I’ve earned a bottle of wine. Or two.”

I scanned the invitation. There were awards being handed out to several of the kids who participated in the program. Good money said one of them trained at Con’s gym.

And he’d RSVP’d to a $5,000-a-plate fundraiser to be there in support of the kid.

I looked back to Elle. “Do I have a date for this?”

She laughed, a cackle if I’d ever heard one.

“I love that you have to ask me if you have a date. Do I look like your assistant? I’m surely not.”

“Sorry. I just…”

“I know…I’m the keeper of your social calendar by default. No, you don’t have a date. Simon was originally going to go with you, but…”