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CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

By the time Mia cleaned out her desk and was escorted from the building, it was only noon. She picked up her bags and headed down the street with six hours to kill. Trenton was overcast and threatening rain, so she settled down at a Starbucks. As she waited for her green tea latte and pressed sandwich, the nasty exchange with Miles Cameron played in her head. Most people wished they had the presence of mind to tell others what they really thought, but Mia always said what was on her mind. Sometimes she regretted it later, but not this time. Miles Cameron was a bully. She was glad she’d confronted him. As she sipped her latte, she faced the uncomfortable truth. She’d lost both her apartment and her job.

What should I do now?

she wondered and realized she had no plan at all. The phrase struck her. Wasn’t that something her mother used to say when she was growing up? She remembered sitting with her birth father at the linoleum kitchen table, feet dangling off her chair, watching Frank drink coffee and page through a magazine.

“You have no plan at all, do you?” her mother said, drying a bowl with a red and white dish towel.

“Plans just get in the way of luck, darling,” Frank countered. He winked at Mia. “Come on, sport. It looks like Mommy needs a day off.” Those words always meant an adventure awaited them.

For once, she wished she could be more like Frank. Nothing had ever seemed to bother him. He was the embodiment of the Latin phrase

carpe diem

, seize the day. Right now, she felt like the day had seized her.

Get it together,

she thought.

You don’t want Mark to see you like this.

“Mia,” the barista called.

She grabbed her lunch and settled down at the table. Now what? Well, she would have to make a plan. The thought of starting over at another lab made her squirm. She’d just spent two years working on a drug that would never see its full potential. Besides, lab work wasn’t her passion—not like writing and researching podcasts, which she loved.

She opened her laptop to get some work done. She’d already finished a ton of research on a supposed haunting near a powerline. Now she just had to write the script outlining her theory, that the ghost sightings were hallucinations brought on by extreme electrical fields. At first her nerves were too frayed to focus, but after a few pages she got into the rhythm of writing. A few hours later, her phone buzzed and a stream of emojis arrived.

Running man—car—highway sign—eyeball—u—6pm.

OK. I’ll see you soon,

she typed back.

Maybe tonight, Mark would finally take The Next Step. The thought of a future doing what she adored, with her fiancé by her side, was wonderful. If they got a place together, she could parlay her podcast into a career and spend more time on marketing. She’d landed Occult Date, why not Vampire Date and Witch Date too? She’d never miss an ad deadline again. Working on

The Vortex

full time would be challenging, but the idea sent a thrill down Mia’s spine. She loved podcasting and really wanted to try. The only problem was that Mark wasn’t exactly decisive. He’d certainly grown more ambitious than when they first met. But much like Frank, when it came down to making plans, Mark always held back. Maybe losing her job was just the push their relationship, needed. Surely, he’d step up and help his fiancée. Her whole future would be decided in the next few hours, Mia realized.

Everything depends on tonight.

She headed to the gym, changed into workout clothes, and ran for forty minutes. Then she showered and slipped on her sleek asymmetrical cotton voile dress. Her cheeks were flushed from the workout, so she didn’t need much makeup, just a little mascara and dark lip gloss. Her hair had a mind of its own, as usual, but she smoothed the loose waves with glosser, strapped on her heels, and turned to make sure she was presentable. The last touch was a necklace Mark had given her at Christmas, a Penn State golden pendant.

Mia stepped outside to find it was raining. Relieved to see Mark’s car waiting, she trotted through the droplets to his BMW sedan. The door clicked open and she slid into the passenger side. Mark was compressed into the driver’s seat with the air on high. She leaned over to kiss him. He smiled but held a finger up to stop her.

“Just a sec,” Mark said, leaning forward. “Bases are loaded. Torres is batting.”

Mia first met her fiancé at Penn State University where he’d played on the baseball team, and he was still obsessed with the sport. Once a week, Mark had worked the night shift at the school’s radio station. By the time Mia arrived to deejay the morning show, Mark was scruffy and wired from drinking too many Red Bulls. He’d stick around while she read the news, trying to make her crack up in the booth. She’d struggle to keep a straight face, which was hard because he was so goofy.

Finally, one morning, he wrote BREAKFAST? on a piece of notebook paper and held it up to the glass deejay booth. She nodded yes. He made her pancakes at his place and they’d been together ever since.

“Don’t mind me,” she whispered, smiling back. She knew better than to demand attention when the bases were loaded.

Torres is at the plate. This pitcher has clocked in at an amazing ninety miles per hour. Strike one. Is he going to take the pitch? He bunts! Torres bunts the ball!

“Oh, come on!” Mark yelled, slamming his palms on the steering wheel.

He looked at Mia with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, babe. You look great! I’m going to turn this off now that my girl’s in the car.”

“Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to come between you and Torres,” Mia said, smoothing the water droplets off her dress as the humidity curled her hair into a wild mane.

Mark beamed at Mia. They really were such a good match.

“Listen, I know how much you love the theater,” he announced proudly. “So I got us tickets for

Waiting for Godot

. It’s supposed to be hilarious.”

“Beckett’s

Waiting for Godot

?”

“Yeah, I heard it’s a riot.”

“Kind of, I suppose. I’d say it’s more of a tragicomedy,” Mia said.

“Tragicomedy? Are you playing the English lit card?” Mark laughed. “Anyway, it’s starring that TV guy, the one who’s the sheriff in the town with the monsters. He plays one of the clowns or whatever.”

“Well, I do love Beckett,” Mia said, a little concerned with Mark’s reasoning.

“Then I’ll expect a full dissertation afterwards,” he teased, leaning in to kiss her.

“If you insist,” she said, a little breathlessly. As he kissed her, she felt the tension of the day melt away.

He released her and put both hands on the steering wheel.

“Now behave, Miss Bold. This date is officially starting.”

“I’ll try,” she giggled. It felt good to laugh after all the drama.

“What a day!” Mark began as he pulled into traffic. “First, I was on the foreign desk and it was crazy. A lot of people were divesting assets because of that dictator guy in the Middle East, the one the Russians like so much. Moving money through their Forex accounts, buying bonds.”

Mia was only half listening, thinking about the best way to present her news. When she didn’t respond immediately, Mark incorrectly took it as a hint and shifted his attention to her.

“So, how was the pill factory?”

She honestly didn’t know where to begin.

“I’ll tell you over dinner.”

Mark drove to a local Italian restaurant they liked and parked in the half empty lot. As he opened her door, Mia felt nervous. What was she going to tell him? Losing both her apartment and her job was a little bit daunting and a lot to explain.

The restaurant was warm and inviting. A stout hostess led them to a booth in the corner where they settled down to order. Mark leaned on the table, perfectly at ease.

“So, has your boss gone to any Doctor Who conventions lately?”

“Well, that’s one of the things I want to talk about.”

“Doctor Who?” he joked.

She glanced at him nervously, hoping he would help her somehow, but he just scanned his menu and waited for her to finish. She decided to start small and tell him about the apartment first.

“I have to move—”

His eyebrows raised slightly. Curious but not concerned.

“—Move? I thought Brynn and Jeff had your back.”

“Jeffrey sold the building.”

“No way! Jeff sold the building? He must have made bank. I love that guy.”

“I have to be out in two weeks.”

“Oooh. That’s quick. Don’t worry, babe,” he assured her. “We’ll find you a place, get some movers. It’ll be fine.”

Mia stared at Mark, confused. He knew she’d been living rent free, yet he seemed totally unconcerned. She had to tell him the rest, help him see the big picture.

“The thing is, I lost my job,” she said.

“Really? What happened?” This time Mark did seem concerned. He leaned forward and gave Mia his full attention.

The story rushed out of her in a thousand fragmented pieces ending with the epic showdown with Miles Cameron.

“Miles Cameron? The gajillionaire?”

“Yes, he was so awful—” As she described the details, Mark’s demeanor began to change. His usually sunny expression hardened. His nostrils flared with anger.

Mia felt a sense of relief. Mark saw what Cameron had done, how he had threatened and insulted her. He was angry she’d been treated badly.

“I had to take a stand for humanity,” she said, bringing her story to a dramatic conclusion. She looked up at her fiancé, proud and excited she had taken a stand.

Mark stared at her for a moment, as if he was trying to formulate just the right response. The waiter came with their drinks. He drained his beer in a couple of gulps, then spoke.

“You turned down a six-figure job?” His voice sounded tight.

“I had to,” Mia said, not sure why he was focusing on that aspect of the story.

“Why would you do that?” he asked angrily. A few of the other diners glanced at their table. Mia was taken aback by the intensity of his reaction.

“Did you hear what I just said? The guy was insufferable.”

“He’s a multimillionaire. You think that’s easy?” Mark said, growing more agitated.

Mia felt her jaw drop.

“He was going to derail an important diabetes drug,” she said.

“It’s his company, Mia. He can do what he wants.” There was an edge in Mark’s voice she’d never heard before. He called the waiter over and ordered another beer. “I need another drink after this train wreck.”

Train wreck?

Are you saying I should have taken the money?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Mia. You know how expensive New York is. If we both made six-figure incomes, maybe we could afford more than a closet. You really screwed us.”

Mia felt the blood rush to her cheeks. Everyone in the restaurant seemed to stare at them.

“I can get another job, Mark.”

“You? You’re a lab tech. You think anyone’s going to make you a two-hundred-K offer? That was your one shot,

our shot

. The Next Step costs money, Mia.” He fell into a brooding silence.

Mia stared at her fiancé in astonishment. Mark had never spoken to her this way. She felt mortified, hurt, and confused. Partnerships were about helping each other when things got rough, weren’t they? The lady at the next table gave her a sympathetic glance.

“What do you mean by that? I told you what happened. I was instrumental in creating that drug. I’m not just a lab tech, I’m a

great

lab tech.”

“It’s just that I feel like I’m doing all the work here.” Mark shrugged.

Mia felt a rush of tears and her eyes stung. She choked back her feelings before he could see how hurt she was. How had things gotten so awkward so quickly? Maybe she just needed to cut to the chase and tell him how she really felt.

“Listen, Mark, I enjoy lab work, but the politics are frustrating. What I really want to do is make

The Vortex

work.”

Mark seemed to deflate before her eyes. The anger evaporated, as he sunk into his chair.

“—See? That’s the whole problem. You just aren’t serious, Mia. You’re always dreaming.”

“But doesn’t a partnership mean supporting each other’s dreams?”

“Not if it’s a pipe dream! What do you want from me, Mia? Just tell me what you want.”

“How about taking The Next Step with me? We’ve been engaged for two years. Shouldn’t we move in together? Set a wedding date? Start planning?”

“It’s not that simple, Mia. There are just a lot of considerations.” Mark shrugged and looked right through her.

“But we could make it simple, Mark. We could elope. I don’t care about rings and wedding invitations, do you?”

This time, he didn’t respond. He just kept looking down, lost in thought. Then he shook his head.

“Listen, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should take a break.”

Mia felt her heart sink as if she were on one of the old roller coaster rides Frank used to take her on, slowly rolling to the top before the wrenching drop down the other side.

Was Mark breaking up with her?

“What do you mean?” Mia said, feeling betrayed, confused, and hurt. “Are you ending our engagement?”

Mark squirmed in his chair, barely able to meet her eyes.

“I just don’t think this is working,” he said finally.

Mia stared at her fiancé. How long had he been thinking about this? Ever since Mark moved to New York to pursue a career in finance, he’d been evasive. Until now, she’d chalked it up to the stress of his new job. Now she realized there was something deeper.

“I remember when you had a dream, Mark. You wanted to create an online community to match mentors with aspiring third-world entrepreneurs. What happened to that guy?”

“He grew up,” Mark said quietly. “What I want now is to be a hedge fund manager. And you’ve changed too, Mia. You know you have.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Mia said and felt the tears threaten to come back. She didn’t want Mark to see her cry. She pushed her wounded feelings down. The truth was, they’d grown apart. He was still a good guy. But his compassion had been eclipsed by ambition.

“You know, Mark, you used to believe in a better world. I’m not sure what you believe in now. But I know it’s not me.”

She hoped he’d argue, tell her she was wrong, but he just signaled the waitress for their check. They sat in silence waiting. There was nothing left to say.

Mia slid her phone out of her handbag and opened the Uber app to summon a ride.

“I need to get my stuff out of your car.”

Mark paid the check and followed her outside. Mia’s ride pulled up and she piled her bags into the car. Then she turned to Mark and looked directly at him for the last time.

“Look, maybe we—” Mark said.

“—You should go see the play.

Waiting for Godot

is about waiting for something that’s never going to happen, kind of like me waiting for our Next Step. Goodbye, Mark.” She kissed him on the cheek and slid into the back seat. As the car pulled away, a cold rain started to fall.

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