The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue #2) - Jessica Hawkins Page 0,54
really about the networking.”
Andrew shakes his head. “Being nominated is an accomplishment, Amelia. Don’t downplay it.”
“But I’ll lose.”
“So what? How many people ever get recognized for what they do?”
“What do I do?” I ask. “I’m a cog in an industry that makes women feel badly about themselves so I can sell them products to make them feel better. It’s a bullshit award in a bullshit business.”
Andrew furrows his eyebrows, and I think I must be mirroring his expression. Lately, I’ve had brief moments where I stopped to ask myself if I’m proud of what I do. But I’ve never spoken that way before. It makes me wonder if it has to do with what Reggie said earlier about work being my priority for the rest of my life.
“I thought you loved your job?”
“I do.” The elevator dings. “God, I need a smoke. Let’s go get this over with.”
“Right behind you,” he says. “But I’ll give you some space to walk in alone.”
I nod and now that my sex-induced haze has cleared, a sudden sense of urgency hits me. I trot to the ballroom. As I near the double doors, the echo of the microphone gets louder. The voice is familiar, like an old friend. I open a door and duck inside, hoping nobody will notice me.
When my eyes adjust to the dark, I see Sadie on stage. “ . . . grateful for this recognition,” she says, squinting out at the crowd.
I pinch my eyebrows together, confused. Why is she up there? She wasn’t nominated.
“Amelia had to step out—”
My name is projected onto the wall under Exceptional Women in PR—Fashion. I gasp silently, covering my mouth. I won the award—and I missed the announcement. I should be up there, but instead, I’m here, disheveled from Andrew’s mouth and hands, frozen to the spot.
“—I know she’d like to thank, um . . .” Sadie clears her throat, darting her eyes around the crowd. “She’d like to thank us, her team, and everyone in this room who’s ever . . . supported or believed in avec. Which is many of you, I’m sure.”
I take a step forward and then another and soon, I’m hurrying toward the stage as Sadie holds up the award.
“Th-thank you. Again.” She pauses. “And again, I apologize for Amelia’s absence. I know she’ll be thrilled.”
The room applauds. I don’t make it to the stage, so instead I stop at our table and steady myself against my chair. Any attempt to get on the stage now would look desperate. Maybe it is a bullshit award, but now it’s my bullshit award, and my first one at that. The only recognition I’ve received, in fact—proof that I’m actually decent at what I do. As much as I played it down, I admit to myself that I wanted to win—I just assumed I wouldn’t. Everyone at my table looks back, their eyes turning to me in synchronization. “Congratulations,” says Howie. “Did you get to see any of it?”
“I—”
“You won,” Mindy says cheerfully.
I feel a hand at the small of my back. “You won?” Andrew asks.
I move away from him. I don’t want him touching me when all eyes are on me.
“Amelia,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
I turn away and spot Sadie coming back to the table. “It’s fine.”
Sadie holds out the small, crystal award and grins. “Where were you?” she asks, nearly bouncing with excitement. She rarely gets giddy, and seeing her happy for me, guilt tugs at my heart. “Can you believe it? You won.”
She gives me the award. It’s heavier than I expect, and I almost need two hands to hold it. I study it. Exceptional Women in PR—Fashion. Other women have babies—I have avec. Even if I’ve doubted it lately, it’s never let me down. I’ve built my world around it. This should’ve been a big moment for me, but I let a man distract me. It’s a classic example of something that would’ve happened when I was with Reggie.
“Amelia?” Sadie asks. “Do you feel all right?”
I blink a few times. I’m being selfish. This isn’t my award—it’s all of ours. My team is looking to me, and I’ve already let them down once tonight. I’m not sure if it’s because I missed the announcement, or if I’m in shock, but the pride I would’ve expected to feel isn’t there.
I force a smile. “We won,” I correct her. “I’d still be working out of a shoebox apartment if it weren’t for my team.”