black blazer that matches my pants almost perfectly.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” I say when it’s time for me to leave. I’m clutching my bag of spoils like it’s a lifeline. “I don’t even know what to say to tell you how amazing you are.”
Grace smiles, looking even more like her brother than she did earlier. “You can thank me by kicking their asses and showing them that women of color are the hardest-working Bs in B-school.” Then she shakes her head. “But I should be thanking you. Will hasn’t been this good for years. All the luck, okay?”
“I kind of feel like someone just gave me a massive cheat code,” I confess to Priya that night. “Also, like I’m some kid playing dress up.”
“That is literally what we do when we go to college, J,” Priya says. “We try to figure out how to adult. Why are you feeling bad about it?”
“Because I put on that outfit that Grace gave me, and at first I think I look really good, and five seconds later I feel like a giant fraud. I mean, I look in the mirror and I don’t even recognize myself. It’s just not me.”
“Not yet,” she says. “But it could be. Isn’t that what you want?”
“What, the JBP?” I snort. “It’s what my dad wants.”
“But what about you?”
The thing is, I have no idea. Priya and I have always had that dream of moving to LA, but I’ve also recognized that as the tropiest small-town desire ever, and if I’m being honest, it’s one that Priya is more likely to realize than I am.
The things I want more than anything are simple. I want to get out of this town, and I don’t want to be tied to the restaurant forever. Anything else is just gravy. Considering that, JBP isn’t the worst idea ever.
“I don’t not want it. I mean, it’s part of that damn contract,” I say after a moment. I think of the rush I got when we sold out at the Boilermaker and the humming satisfaction in my chest when I saw those spreadsheet numbers spike. “I guess I could live with it.”
Priya’s quiet for a minute then gives a huff of breath. “I guess we could all do worse than having lives that we can live with.”
This Is My Brain on Unsolicited Advice
WILL
I’m at A-Plus when Jocelyn has her “interview” with Grace, because we still aren’t allowed unchaperoned time together. The lunch rush is slower than usual, which makes me feel a faint anxiety about whether we’ll hit our target for the week. It’s as good a reason as any for me to finally pull up the contact info for the plaza’s property manager.
Just looking at the number on my phone makes me feel nauseated. I take a lap around the restaurant, doing my breathing exercises, pepping myself up by saying phrases like, “You’ve got this” and “She’s not going to know what hit her.”
Like Dr. Rifkin once suggested, I come up with a script to use. It’s supposed to give me control over the situation, something to fall back on if my brain short-circuits the moment the conversation gets awkward and turns me into a stammering mess.
“Hello, Ms. Ross,” I practice. “My name is William Domenici and I’m a staff writer for the Spartan. I’m working on a feature article on the microeconomics of Waterford Plaza.” I know I have to reveal my conflict of interest, so I rehearse what I’m going to say about working for A-Plus.
I end up with a five-hundred-word speech, and still, when my thumb hovers over the green call button, I’m flooded with self-doubt. No way Rebecca Ross is going to give an interview to a high school student, even if I mention that previous Spartan articles have been picked up by the O-D. She probably couldn’t tell me any meaningful intel anyway. What, do I think I’m going to do some investigative reporting and come up with something to save the Wus’ business?
I close out the Word file with my script.
News flash: I don’t make the call.
When Jos comes back to the restaurant, she has no apparent signs of trauma and is carrying a shopping bag full of clothes.
“She didn’t eat you alive?” I ask, only half joking.
“No, she was great. I feel a lot better about the interview.”
Later on, at home, Grace says pretty much the same thing. “She seemed a little nervous at first, but then she settled down when we