“With the woman!”
I look over to where the bartender moved her and her friend to a high-top table at the other end of the bar. “She moved to a different table.”
“I wish I saw her face.”
I laugh as the bartender walks over with my wine. “This one’s on the house.”
“Thanks,” I say.
She smiles at me. “And if you ever get a mold of monster dick made, let me know and I’ll pay you for one too.”
I throw my head back, cracking up.
“Did the bartender just ask for a mold of that man’s dick too?” Winnie asks.
“She sure did. Maybe I should ask for one and then sell them on the internet.”
“Keeps you from having to find a job.”
My face falls at that. I’ve spent the last three weeks that I’ve been in Asheville trying not to think about how I destroyed my career. All because I wanted something too much. I wanted the recognition. I wanted to be known as one of the best investigative journalists. I wanted to write that story because I knew I could get a job at The New Yorker with it. And Alana ended up dead because of me. Something I could never forgive myself for. I feel terrible that I am talking to my best friend about how I might need to make a living selling vibrators on the internet.
“You know you’ll get a job, right?” she says to me. “This will blow over. People will forget about it.”
“You know it’s just not that, Win. I worry that I’m already blacklisted.”
She sighs. “You aren’t, Grace. You know I’ve been keeping my ears open. There are a few rumors going around but nothing that will keep you from getting another job. Write another mind-blowing story like the one you did two years ago. Just maybe stay away from politics.”
I take a large gulp of my wine. Winnie is an editor at another magazine. She is my ear to the ground, letting me know if there is any talk about me and my story. My highly anticipated story. So many newspapers and magazines were teased about it by my editor. And I failed them all by quitting. No one will hire me. I’m not worth the risk of failure. I should have taken the risk on that article. Written it. Published it. Surely Senator Williams wouldn’t have been able to do anything from prison. Of course, all the other men that may not have been named in that article would come after me. And then I would end up just like Alana. And Winnie has no idea about that.
“I’ll figure it out, Win. But I’m okay for now.”
“I would say I don’t believe you since I know you hate living in your brother’s basement but since you are working with monster dick, I guess there are some perks.”
I laugh, letting my mind float away from the guilt flooding my system. “You always see the bright side of things, Winnie.”
“Excuse me? Grace Prescott?” a man with a strong Southern accent says.
I turn and see dark hair and green eyes. He’s tall and fit but nowhere near like the man in the other room. The man who pinned me against a couch. Who I want to pin me against a wall. One look at this man and I know he won’t even compare to monster dick. I bet if I asked him to choke me, he would say no.
“I gotta go, Win. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Don’t forget to use a condom!” she shouts as I hit end on my phone and pull my earbud out of my ear.
“Hi,” I say to the man. “You must be Derek.”
He flashes his perfect smile at me and I gesture to the open seat next to me.
“Sorry I’m late. Had trouble finding parking.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him. Really because I didn’t care. Because all I can think about is Carson right now. “I got here a little early. So I already had a glass of wine.”
He looks at the glass in front of me. “I guess I better catch up then.”
I smile at him for real this time. Maybe I should be doing this. While I’m still young. No reason to be caught up on someone you can never have.
* * *
I stroll into the office early the next morning. Carson has court today and I know he will need help getting a few things ready before heading to the courthouse.