“London, huh?”
Darcy squealed. “Yes! And you can come up to the country on weekends to see me.”
“I’d need to get a job out there,” I said, thinking out loud. My three hundred bucks wasn’t going to get me far even if I wasn’t paying rent.
“Restaurants are two a penny in London. You’d walk into a job,” Darcy said.
I wrinkled my nose. “Honestly, I might look for something different. Like Scarlett says, switch things up a little.” I avoided looking at my sister. No doubt she was wearing her I-told-you-so grin.
“Well, let me speak to a few family friends and see what I can do,” Darcy said. “There might be someone looking for something.”
“Are you sure? You letting me stay at the house is so generous and—”
Darcy lifted her palm to face me. “Don’t mention it. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.” I grinned and nodded slowly; maybe a change of scenery was exactly what I needed. If nothing else, the men there had an accent. And judging by the guys in this bar, I had to find a new hunting ground. I might even be able to start thinking about my future for the first time in a long time.
Two
Violet
London was exactly how I imagined it would be. The black taxis, red phone booths, the rain and old buildings—I loved it all. After locking Darcy’s townhouse, I turned and took the three steps down to the sidewalk. Or pavement, as the British would say. I was going to go back to America as British as I could. As well as the differences in language, I had to master an ability to talk incessantly about the weather. British people talked about the weather as if it were a dysfunctional member of the family they were constantly disappointed in. Even if the sky was blue and the sun was out, they’d complain that they’d not been expecting it and had too many layers on. If it was raining they certainly weren’t happy but, interestingly, if it hadn’t rained for a few days they were all shaking their heads concerned with the lack of precipitation. It was totally bizarre, but I loved it. I’d learned if I wanted to strike up a conversation with a stranger, the weather was my Trojan horse. The topic was the equivalent to the Super Bowl in America, except it was a 365-days-a-year event.
I had a good feeling about today. The sky was blue, I didn’t have too many layers on, my travel pass had twenty pounds on it, and I was about to ace an interview that Darcy had arranged for me. I could feel it in my bones. Today was my day. It had to be. I was down to my last fifty dollars, and if I didn’t get this job I was going to have to call my sister and have her buy me a plane ticket back to the US and the nothing that awaited me.
I’d moved three boxes of things from my apartment the day before I flew to London, plus the suitcase I’d brought with me. Three boxes that included all my clothes, books, mementos, and jewelry. I had no furniture. I didn’t own so much as a fork. For years I’d reveled in my lack of things, and for a long time I’d thought it was super cool I wasn’t tied down to material possessions, but seeing the three boxes in the back of my sister’s car had made me feel pathetic.
Today I was going to resist feeling pathetic. I was all about the interview and the three-month contract it offered. Darcy had heard that one of her grandfather’s friends had a temporary job opening at some barristers’ offices doing administrative work and had arranged an interview. It wasn’t a sure thing—I could still mess the interview up, but I would do my best. I didn’t want to let Darcy down, and I liked the idea of working in a law office. It was something new. The job description hadn’t been specific, but Darcy had told me they needed someone robust and that an American might just work out.
A quick scan of Wikipedia had given me the basics on barristers. I’d figured out that unlike the US, the Brits had two types of lawyers—solicitors and barristers. Barristers wore the weird wigs and gowns and went to court. Solicitors were stuck in the office, in suits, dealing with clients. I had no idea why there had to be a split, but barristers seemed more British with their old-fashioned costumes, and I was obsessing about the British so that worked for me.
I peeked into my tote. The folded square of paper with the address copied out was still there, alongside my cell phone, so I headed to the tube station. I’d planned out my route and left plenty of time. I needed to get off at Holborn tube station and from there I could figure out where I was going with the aid of Google Maps. I had such a great feeling about today.
I reached the entrance to the tube and pressed my travel pass against the payment pad. If I got this job, this would be the route I’d take every day for the next three months. It would be as if I was really living in London. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this excited about anything, let alone a job or a commute. It really did feel like the start of something—a new beginning.
A seasoned New Yorker, I was used to subway face. There were certain rules you had to abide by when taking public transit—a zipped bag, no eye contact, and an impassive expression. I was pretty sure the tube used the same rulebook, but today, I couldn’t hide my grin. I wanted to share my good mood with everyone.
The train arrived as soon as I stepped on the platform. That had to be a sign—everything was going my way. I stepped on, being careful to Mind the Gap as I was told to do by an electronic voice, and spotted a seat in the corner, but a man who’d got on the train with me was nearer. I watched as he spotted the seat and then turned to me. He had bright blue eyes and a jawline so sharp I wanted to reach out and stroke my fingers along it. He wasn’t my usual type—suits weren’t my thing—but I’d make an exception for someone so tall and handsome. Someone who wore his suit that well.
“Please,” he said, gesturing to the empty seat.
A hotter-than-hot guy offering me a seat? This really was my day. “Thank you.” I went full throttle on my grin.