Perfect on Paper (14 page)

“And what about cute Mr. Trainer Guy?” Andie took a sip of her wine. “Are you ever going to talk to him again?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Jake? I wish, but I just don’t know how I would.”

“You never know what might happen,” McKenna said.

I sighed. “He’s so cute. When he smiled at me at that basketball game, or at least when I think he smiled at me, I felt all melty inside.”

“
Melty?
Is that even a word?” McKenna said.

“I have no idea,” I said.

“So you’re never going to talk to either one of them again?” Andie said.

“I have no idea,” I said.

“Well who
are
you going to talk to?” Andie said.

I frowned. “I don’t know. I have no idea.”

“What
do
you know, Miss Puppy Cat?” McKenna said.

I unwrapped a chocolate mint bell and tossed it in my mouth. “Apparently, I know nothing.”

The Friday before Christmas I ran into Kent in the office kitchen. He grabbed my arm, nearly knocking the Snickers I had in my hand to the floor.

“I have some good gossip, Waverly, fantastic gossip.” He looked down the hall to make sure no one could hear him.

“Oooh, I love gossip. What is it? What?” I filled my mug with coffee and sat down at the round table in the middle of the kitchen. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging.”

He walked over and shut the kitchen door, then sat down next to me. “I heard a rumor that Paige Beckerman is going to make a big announcement after the holidays.” Paige Beckerman was the CEO of K.A. Marketing. She was based in our New York office.

“And?”

“If everything works out, she’s going to announce that we landed a major account.”

“A major account?”

He nodded. “A
very
major account, and we won’t even have to pitch it.”

“No pitch? Why not?” Winning big accounts in the world of public relations and marketing without a pitch was extremely unusual. Clients were notorious for making agencies jump through hoops of fire before finally making a decision, and the whole painful process was often stretched out for months and months.

He lowered his voice. “Word is, the head of marketing at Adina Energy called Beckerman himself and told her he wants K.A. Marketing to handle all their publicity and events. Apparently, word on the street is that we’re the hot agency for product launches, and they want us.”

I sat back and tried to absorb what I had just heard. Adina Energy? No way. Adina Energy was one of the biggest brands in sports and was quickly becoming one of the biggest brands in anything. It was seemingly everywhere, the Brad Cantor of brands.

“You’re kidding.” I took a bite of my Snickers.

“Nope. Not kidding. It should all happen by the end of January. And guess what else?”

“What?”

“There’s a very good chance we’ll be handling the campaign out of this office.”

I dropped my Snickers on the table.

“Really?” I said.

“Yep. That would mean us, Waverly. This could make our careers. After this we’ll be able to write our own ticket in sports PR, especially you, as the account lead.”

When I got back to my office, I took a deep breath and thought about the news I’d just heard, the news that, as Kent had said, could literally make my career. I tapped a pencil on my desk. Would I be running the account? I was the most qualified person, right? But then why hadn’t Jess told me about it yet? Was he being coy because of the Super Show fiasco? Or was it just a rumor? Hmm … the scoop on what could be the biggest account of my life would have to wait until after the holidays.

But I had a very good feeling about it.

Several hours later, I was at the Kilkenny holiday party with McKenna, sitting at the bar with a plateful of appetizers and two beers in front of us. The place was packed, and it was hard to hear each other over the music and the chatter of the crowd.

“What time did Hunter say he’d be here?” I said.

“A little after nine o’clock.”

“I still can’t believe he’s going to be chief resident. I’m so impressed.”

She smiled. “I know, I’m really proud of him. And so relieved too. And I’m so proud of
you
for getting that big account! We’ve got to celebrate.”

I put my beer down on the bar. “Hey, now, let’s not count our chickens. We don’t even have the account yet.”

“But if you do, you’re pretty sure it’s going to be yours to run, right?”

I nodded. “It should be, but nothing’s been confirmed yet.”

“But it looks good, right?”

I smiled and thought about the great work we’d done for JAG over the years, especially the recent launch of the Shane Kennedy shoes. I’d put in a lot of solid hours on that account and was proud of the results. “Yeah, I think so.”

“That’s awesome. And you said that trainer guy Jake does work for Adina Energy, right? So would you see him?”

“Now
that
I don’t know. He said he does some consulting for them, but I don’t know how PR would play into it. But maybe I could work out some sort of boondoggle to run into him, totally by accident, of course.”

“Gotta love the boondoggle,” she said, then touched the fabric of my blouse. “I love that top. I remember when you bought it, but I’ve never seen you wear it before. What took you so long?”

I looked down at the top. “I’m not sure. I wore it for the first time on that horrible Wrong Darren date, so I put it on again tonight in hopes of avoiding any negative wardrobe-association issues.”

“Well, it looks great on you. Hey, here comes the chief resident.”

Hunter made his way through the crowd and gave McKenna a soft kiss when he reached us. “Hey, you,” he said quietly to her in his boyfriend voice, his standard greeting that always made me jealous but happy for her at the same time. Then he turned to me and gave me a bear hug. “Hi, Waverly, it’s great to see you.”

“Happy birthday, Mr.
Re … si … dent
,” I sang in my best Marilyn Monroe voice. “Congratulations, you genius. I’m seriously impressed.”

“Why, thank you,” he said with a big grin. “Now, what can I get you ladies to drink?”

Four hours of celebratory drinking and dancing later, McKenna, Hunter, and I were sitting in Pizza Orgasmica on Fillmore, a popular late-night pizza spot filled with drunken holiday revelers, us included.

“So are you coming to my New Year’s Eve party?” Hunter said to me.

I extended my hand. “I’m sorry, have we met? I’m Waverly Bryson.”

“Waverly’s boycotting New Year’s Eve,” McKenna said.

“Boycotting New Year’s? Why?” Hunter said.

“What?” I said.

“Why are you boycotting New Year’s Eve?”

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” I said.

“Waverly …,” McKenna said.

I put down my slice of pizza. “Okay, I’ll tell you why. I may have forgotten how to be single, but one thing I do remember is that you DO NOT want to be single on New Year’s Eve.”

“Waverly, you’re being way too dramatic,” McKenna said.

“Am I? Tell me this: when else is there so much pressure to be fabulous and to find that perfect dress and the perfect guy to kiss at midnight? It’s like prom night all over again, without the big hair.”

“I’ve seen your prom photos,” she said. “Ouch.”

“Shut up,” I said, pointing at her. “You’re right, but shut up anyway.”

“C’mon, Waverly, it’ll be fun,” Hunter said. “Maybe you’ll get a good kiss out of it.”

“And maybe you’ll actually remember the kiss this time,” McKenna said.

“Touché,” I said with a laugh, then looked down and realized I had a big blob of tomato sauce and cheese on my blouse. “Oh, frick.” I grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the spot.

“Hi, Waverly. Hi, McKenna. Happy holidays!”

We all looked up and saw Brad Cantor standing next to our table, by himself. He was always by himself, no matter what time of day or night it was, and apparently no matter where he was.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said under my breath.

“What?” Brad said.

“Hi, Brad, um, I was just cursing myself for dropping pizza on myself.” I pointed to the mess on my top.

“Ahhh, you can barely see it. And that’s a great top on you, Waverly. Mind if I join you guys?” Before I could say anything, he sat down next to me and smiled. McKenna buried her face in Hunter’s shoulder and tried not to laugh.

Two strikes and you’re out. The blouse was going straight into my Goodwill pile.

On the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, I started to freak out. Aaron was getting married in a few hours, and I didn’t even know who I was going to kiss at midnight.

McKenna was helping Hunter get ready for his party, so I called Andie.

“I’m starting to freak out,” I said.

“Deep breaths, deep breaths,” she said. “If you can get through tonight, a brand new year is waiting for you tomorrow morning, right?”

I nodded. “You’re right, I just need to get through tonight. I can do that. Got any advice on how to do that?”

“You know what my go-to advice for this type of situation is,” she said.

“The beer goggles thing?”

“Yep, you know it’s true. They
are
the lonely girl’s Cupid. We’ll find you someone to smooch to help ease the pain. You’ll be fine.”

“You think so?” I said.

“Well, realistically you will probably have a meltdown at some point, probably close to midnight, but that’s totally understandable. So just do what you can, and we’ll deal with it.”

I had to laugh. “A meltdown?”

“Hey, babe, you knew before you called me that I would tell it to you straight, so no complaining, okay? McKenna’s the soda fountain to go to if you want soft-serve.”

“True, true,” I said. Andie was anything but soft-serve.

“Okay, hon, I gotta run and get myself waxed. See ya at the party,” she said.

I put the phone down and chuckled. Andie could probably make me laugh as I was being pushed over the edge of a live volcano.

To clear my head I decided to go for a run to the Golden Gate Bridge. The cold, crisp air chilled my cheeks and forehead as I jogged down the hill toward the water. The streets were practically empty, so I assumed everyone was probably inside resting up for the big night.

There were a few sailboats sprinkled over the bay, and as I gazed out at them I remembered a sailing trip Aaron and I had taken when we’d just started dating. He and I had held hands during the entire trip and had even sneaked below a few times to kiss. And tonight he was declaring his lifelong love for someone else.
Yuck.

While I’d tried my best not to think about his wedding, the reality of it was hitting me now. He still hadn’t called me, even after I’d run into him, which I guess just proved that we weren’t a part of each other’s lives anymore—that we would never be again.

I wished I could just stop thinking about it. Why did I still care so much? Why did it still hurt so much? I found myself fighting back tears, running faster and faster along the lush grass of the Marina Green, then along Crissy Field toward the hill leading to the pedestrian entrance of the bridge. I wiped my forehead with my sleeve, breathing harder and harder.

It hurt. A lot. But I knew it had to do with more than just Aaron. It also had to do with the fact that I obviously hadn’t really known him. I mean, how could I not have seen that he wasn’t in love with me? Shouldn’t that be pretty obvious? Had I been so eager to prove to myself (or to my dad?) that I was marriage material that I’d buried my head in the sand about what marriage really was? And more than that, why hadn’t Aaron been in love with me? Wasn’t I loveable?

At least a little bit?

I raised my left hand to wipe the tears from my eyes as I ran up the dirt hill toward the bridge. Once I reached the top, I looked ahead toward the pedestrian entrance and picked up the pace until I was nearly in a full sprint. But I didn’t feel tired. I didn’t feel anything. I just wanted to keep running. I wanted to leave everything behind and keep running and running and never stop.

Suddenly I realized that I was headed straight toward a huge tree branch that had fallen in the center of the path. And I was running so fast that I couldn’t stop and didn’t have time to go around it. I tried to jump, but my foot got caught, and before I knew what was happening, I was tumbling head first onto the dirt.

I wasn’t sure what I felt about anything anymore. But when I fell over that branch, I did feel something for real.

I felt my ankle break.