“Well, maybe I’ll get to relax and have a look around before they get here with everything,” I suggest, hopeful.
“Perhaps,” she says simply, as if she were telling me in her most cultured and sympathetic way, No dear. I’m sorry, but that’s not possible, though you may continue dreaming about it if it makes you feel better.
I knew that before I came here; there’s no such thing as relaxing when you work as an event coordinator for the most high-profile event planning business in California. One hundred percent of Cassandra’s clients are wealthy, half of them are famous, and the rest are people who know someone famous. There’s a lot of money in it, but it’s very demanding and often so stressful that most who get into the business quit within the first month—at least, those who work for Cassandra Harrington do, anyway.
I still can’t believe I lucked into this job with all its perks. Like all-expense-paid trips to Hawaii, a career in a creative field where I’m paid generously and have job security that allows me nowhere to go but up. They don’t come along often and one would be crazy not to take it. I grew up with financially struggling parents. I made up my mind long before I was out of high school to not go through life as they have had to. Like they still do. And now, with Dad’s failing health—prostate cancer, though they caught it early and he’s in remission—I’m more determined than ever to have a good-paying job so I can help my parents; they’ve done so much for me.
Paige slides onto the backseat with me and shuts the door behind her, cutting off the sudden stream of voices from outside. Knowing I’m on the phone with Cassandra, she gives me that look, suppressing her playful comments about our boss, and leaves me to our conversation.
“Two days setting up,” Cassandra says into my ear, “a one-day wedding, and then it’s back to San Diego.” She pauses. “After that, you’re off to Jamaica.”
Blinking back the stun, I turn my head to lock eyes with Paige on the seat next to me. “Jamaica?” I say into the phone.
Paige’s face lights up.
“Thought you’d like that,” Cassandra says with a proud air. “A client I’ve known for a long time in San Francisco is getting married in Montego Bay. And he’s loaded, honey.” I picture her brushing her thumb and fingers together rapidly to demonstrate money. “It’ll be your biggest commission yet.”
My face stretches into a smile as I gaze past Paige toward the window as palm trees and colorful landscaping fly by—it’s not the money I’m thinking about, but photographing Jamaica. Paige sits there quietly but anxiously, waiting for the details.
“Getting used to this kind of money is hard, I know,” Cassandra teases, followed by a dramatic sigh. “But I’m afraid you’ll just have to stick it out.”
“Oh, the hell you put me through, Cassandra,” I tease her back.
“Think you can handle it?” Cassandra asks suspiciously.
I laugh. “Of course I can! Didn’t you say on our last event that I’m the best coordinator you’ve ever hired?”
“Well, I was referring to the flight,” she says, and my smile fades with the realization. “It’s a little over nine hours to Jamaica.”
My heart picks up a nervous pace just thinking about it. Nine hours on an airplane. Thousands of feet above the ocean. Humans weren’t born with wings for a reason.
“I can handle it,” I half lie, and make a mental note to schedule an appointment with my doctor soon to get some Valium because I think somehow the rain sound effects on my iPod just aren’t going to cut it this time.
“Jamaica?” Paige asks eagerly when I hang up with Cassandra. “Please tell me I get to go on that job.”