The Allure of Dean Harper (The Allure #2)(10)

Josephine had been my best friend since we had buckteeth and Polly Pockets shoved up our noses. I’d made the move to New York City partly for her, but she had a new boyfriend who looked like the offspring of two beautiful soap opera stars, so I was no longer her top priority.

I sighed and shoved my hand back into the cereal box, only to find it empty. Blast. I could have wallowed in self-pity for another solid thirty minutes at least, but not without a constant stream of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I had no choice; I had to leave the apartment.

I crawled toward my suitcase and reached for the first thing my fingers brushed. It was a soft blue t-shirt with a white outline of Texas stretched across the front. In the center, in a bold font, it read “Made”.

I cried as I gripped it in my hand. The tears shocked me. They were ugly and loud enough that the neighbors could definitely hear, but I couldn’t stop. I was in way over my head. I’d had one job prospect in New York City. Provisions was supposed to provide me with a steady income until I landed something more permanent. Instead, Dean Harper had stomped around like an angry wolf, huffing and puffing and blowing my dreams down before I could even begin to build them. Wait…that makes me one of the stupid pigs with shitty building materials. I cried harder.

My phone buzzed on the floor beside me and Josephine’s face flashed across the screen. She was asleep in the photo. Her dark hair was sticking up in every direction and I’d drawn male genitalia across her cheeks. It was a photo from our senior year of high school and it still made me laugh.

"What are you doing?” she asked.

I stared down at the Made in Texas shirt. “Nothing.”

That sounded lame.

“Working out,” I corrected.

"Oh wow, good for you. Cardio? The city has some fun trails.”

I rolled my eyes and fell back onto the floor. She was only making me feel worse.

"What are your plans for the day?” I asked.

"I have to do an interview for my Vogue column and then finish up taking those outfit photos from yesterday to post on my blog. Want to hang out later?”

Finally! Light at the end of the tunnel!

“Sounds good.”

“K. I’ll call you.”

She hung up and I stared up at the ceiling, realizing for the first time that I had essentially moved to New York without a solid plan. I’d left everything behind in Texas: my steady but terrible job at Acapulco Tex-Mex Grill, my pile of unfinished Pinterest DIY projects, and a beat-up red car I’d lovingly nicknamed Hoopty.

For what?

To make it in the restaurant industry.

And what was I doing? Throwing the world’s biggest pity party. I couldn’t give up on my dreams on day three, even if Dean Harper was an * and even if Josephine was too busy to actually hang out with me. I’d find a cooler boss than Dean and awesome friends other than Josephine.

I gripped on to that tiny sliver of hope and sat up. I couldn’t sit around and wait for my dreams to happen. I had to take life by the horns. I brushed my hair and my teeth, and then threw on a business-casual outfit. Practical, slim-fitting navy slacks, flats, and one of Josephine’s white blouses. She at least owed me that much.

A little under-eye concealer hid my temporary mental breakdown, and a dab of mascara brought me back to the land of the living.

I felt like I was in a music video as I walked toward the subway station. “You Only Live Once” by The Strokes blasted through my headphones, giving me a little pep in my step.

I was heading down into the subway system for the first time when Josephine texted me. I wasn’t sure if I’d lose cell reception down in the depths of Middle Earth—or wherever the subway stairs led—so I slid to the side and pressed up against the subway tiles as I read what she’d sent.



Josephine: Just got word that Julian wants to do dinner tonight. Meet us at Gramercy Tavern around 7? His treat!

Lily: Sounds good.



I smiled. I could brag to them about everything I’d managed to get done that day. Oh me? I’m just employed at the swankiest restaurant in town and I got invited to Baby Blue Ivy’s birthday party. So yeah, killin’ it.

I headed for the bottom of the stairs and paused as I took in the zoo around me. Confident, fast-paced New Yorkers were zooming effortlessly around the subway station. I watched them push their way through metal turnstiles and wondered where they’d acquired their little swipey card things. I turned in a circle, looking for an information booth, but it was hard to see beyond the hordes of people in black, gray, and shades of brown. You would have thought the state had outlawed color. I mean, really people.

I tried to catch someone’s eye so I could ask for help, but not a single person glanced my way. I was officially on my own. I moved out of everyone’s way and was about to search “how to use the NYC subway system” on my phone when I noticed a text Josephine had sent a few minutes earlier.



Josephine: Oh and no big deal, but Dean will be joining us. Okay, bye. TTYL.



“Shit.”

“Lady, you okay?”

I glanced away from my phone to find a homeless man sitting on the floor beside me. His white scraggly beard was nearly a foot long and his hair was made up of tight dreadlocks sticking out in every direction. His light grey eyes met mine and I frowned.

“Y’know, not really,” I admitted.