She admitted to me a while ago that on top of her addictions issues she had also suffered from Anorexia since she was a little girl. I had always thought her minimal eating habits odd, but yet again I had not realized how serious things were for her. Gracie Cook was very adept at showing the world what she wanted them to see. And even her close friends had no clue as to what was really going on inside her.
She and I had lived together for the last two years. Before that we had lived down the hall from each other at the sorority house. Out of our group of friends, I had liked to think I knew her best. It was a smack in the face to realize you didn’t know your friend as well as you thought you did. But I hadn’t been completely ignorant. I had known something was up when Gracie had started drinking like a fish and acting like a psychopath. She had gotten it in her head that she was in love with Garrett and had flipped her lid when it came out that Riley had slept with him. I had been extremely worried about her. And rightfully so.
I had spoken to her family, expressing my concerns about her erratic behavior. They had seemed supportive but I wasn’t entirely sure whether they had helped or hurt the situation. Gracie had a lot of secrets. Ones that I knew she held close to the chest.
“Did you tell them about your new job?” Gracie prompted and I wanted to hug her. Whereas Riley had left me floundering in the awkward tension, Gracie had galloped in to the rescue.
Maysie perked up and looked at me. “You got a job?” she asked and I scowled at her.
“Yes, I got a job,” I said, not bothering to hide my annoyance at her incredulous response.
Okay, so I had been less than successful since graduating from Rinard College over two years ago. I had decided to stay in Bakersville as opposed to returning to Pennsylvania, where my family lived.
Gracie and I had gotten an apartment and I had then gone on to work a string of low paying, mind numbing occupations while I still struggled to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.
I had graduated with a major in Business. But I hated business. I hated numbers. I hated anything and everything to do with sitting behind a desk and click clacking at a computer all day, every day.
I had worked as a teller at a bank for a few months. But again the whole numbers thing had been against me. I had walked out after a lady yelled at me for messing up her deposit. Screw that!
Then I had worked as a dog groomer for a while. But I couldn’t handle scrubbing the smell of wet canine off my skin at night.
I had gone on to be employed as a secretary for an overly touchy attorney and a hostess at the local country club. Neither had worked out and I had been job free for almost three months.
My parents graciously covered my expenses and they did so with minimal scolding. Though I knew I was disappointing them. It was a feeling I wasn’t overly familiar with. In their eyes I had always been able to do no wrong. I was smart and popular and had an uncanny ability to always get what I wanted.
My siblings had always joked that I was the favorite. And maybe they were right. I had always been treated a little differently just for being awesome.
But as the years passed I found that I could no longer rest on the laurels of my youth. My sister and brother had amazing jobs and now my parents were starting to look at me, wondering what had gone wrong with their perfect little girl.
Because here I was, twenty-four years old, screwing a wannabe rock star with serious commitment issues, and a resume that could only include questionable skills such as beer pong champion and an impressive ability to experience multiple orgasms.
There was more to me than that.
I hadn’t expected much when I applied on a whim for an Events Coordinator position at The Claremont Center for the Performing Arts. It seemed like the perfect blend of respectable employment and throwing outrageous parties. It was almost too perfect. I hadn’t believed I had a chance in hell at landing it.