The Allure of Julian Lefray (The Allure #1)(74)

Perfect.

“You don’t mind if I take the middle armrest, right? My elbow is arthritic.”

Great. I’ll just wedge myself against the glass and pray for death.

With each passing word, I slid down lower and lower in my chair. I’d walked the runway of NYFW a week earlier and yet I couldn’t afford a plane ticket home. Instead I had to spend 46 hours next to this bag of bones as she farted on my face?

How is this my life!?

I didn’t give myself another second to sit in self-pity. I pulled out my laptop, logged on to the Greyhound’s wifi (thank god for that), and pulled up the email from Vogue—the email I’d been avoiding for the past week. I knew Elizabeth was waiting for my reply, and I’d drafted one right away. I’d actually drafted fifteen, I just didn’t think any of them were good enough to send yet.

I reread the first part of the email and then checked through the items she’d requested I send: cover letter, resume, and a portfolio filled with my best blog posts, Instagram photos, and Twitter posts. They wanted proof that I could create new, interesting content for their readers, so I also had to include a short presentation of what I could offer the Vogue team that would differ from the other applicants.

All in all, it didn’t seem so bad. I jotted down a list of things to get done during the bus ride, praying my laptop would stay charged long enough for me to finish. Then, I scanned back down the email and froze as I caught sight of two words:

Signing. Bonus.

My stomach dropped.

Ms. Keller, I’d also like to inform you that you would receive a one-time signing bonus. This isn’t standard protocol, but our social media team really has their eye set on you and we’ve come up with a number that we hope adequately reflects our interest.

I stared at the sum listed at the bottom of the email, counting the zeros three or four times before I decided that they were actually there. The signing bonus she’d listed was more money than I’d ever had in my bank account at one time. It was more money than I hoped to save in the next five years. It would cover the rest of my student loan debt and then leave me with a few thousand left over. Most importantly, it was far too much money to ignore.

As the Greyhound bus pulled away from the terminal, I started typing away on the items Elizabeth had requested. By the time I’d nailed down my cover letter, the city skyline was long gone and we were well on our way to Texas.

Heehaw.





Chapter Forty-Four


Julian





Dean and I had a lunch meeting scheduled for the day Jo left for Texas. I wanted to call and cancel on him, but then I realized it would be a welcome distraction. He and I could talk about business, and I could pretend that I wasn’t having Jo withdrawals less than twelve hours after she’d left.

The presentation he showed me took all of five minutes. He was opening up a new restaurant serving high-end blah, blah, blah. Good food was good food and everything Dean touched seem to turn to gold. He showed me the numbers from his previous restaurants (which were ridiculous for the food industry) and I cut him a check. I’d been to enough of Dean’s restaurants to trust his judgment. The man was a restaurant wizard, and I was happy to invest in his next venture.

I held up my half-empty glass of bourbon.

“Here’s to becoming rich old bastards.”

He laughed and clinked his glass to mine. “Cheers. I look forward to doing business with you.”

I reclined in my chair and glanced at the TV above the restaurant’s bar. The NBA playoffs were in full swing, but I’d missed most of the games thus far thanks to Jo’s uncanny ability to distract me. Honestly, when she took her shirt off, it was game over, literally.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Dean asked with a smile.

I glanced away from the TV. “My what?”

He shook his head. “Josephine.”

I didn’t want him to bring her up. I’d barely lasted twelve hours without her. How many more did I have left? Over a hundred. Fuck.

“She’s in Texas.”

He straightened his tie, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then relaxed back to mirror my pose. He’d been such a surfer kid in college, so it still felt strange to see him wearing suits every day. His blond hair was cropped short now, but back in the day it’d hung long over his forehead. The girls in college had flocked to him like he was their lifeblood. Annoying bastard.

“I take it from your shitty ass attitude that things aren’t going well with Ms. Keller?” he asked with a knowing smirk.

There they were again: memories of Jo and I having sex in my hotel. I thought of the sex Jo and I’d had after she’d finished packing. I know. I’m a bastard. I’d promised her I was going to keep my hands to myself, but then she sucked a noodle through her come-fuck-me lips and I was a goner. She’d straddled me on the floor and I’d nearly choked on my egg roll. And that’s not a euphemism.

I could feel the shit-eating grin spread across my face. “Things are going very well.”

“So then you’re dating?”

Dating?

My smile faltered.

It was like he’d just asked me if I believed in an afterlife. Dating? Jo and I hadn’t talked about that. Why hadn’t we talked about that? We were definitely dating. Right? Do adults even make it official like that anymore?