“What are your plans for the day?”
Alice always asks me this. Sometimes I make something up to make her feel better about my lousy life, and sometimes I’m honest. Today I don’t feel like I have enough mental energy to make up anything interesting. “I honestly don’t know. I’ll see if there’s anywhere new that I can apply.” I’m a pro at scanning job listings now.
“That’s always good,” she says. “Can’t hurt.” Alice would be happy if I never got a job, and I think she’d be fine if I decided her couch was my new permanent home, but she knows that’s not what I want, and she tries to be supportive of whatever I do. She’s going off to her absurdly well-paying job at a bank. A job which she tried to bring me on for as well, only I totally crashed and burned in the interview, and I’d be surprised if they didn’t throw me out of that bank if I ever decided to show up there again.
“Can’t hurt,” I mumble, taking the coffee she hands to me.
My computer makes a small dinging sound, and I wince. I’m so used to bad news that I don’t even like the sound of email arriving anymore. Maybe I should change the sound. I click open my email, and the cup of coffee almost falls out of my hand.
There, in the dark black letters of an unopened message, are the words: Job Offer.
Alice sees the look on my face. “What is it?”
“Am I crazy or does that say what I think it says?”
She comes around the corner and peers at the screen. “Oh my God.”
“Am I hallucinating?”
“No you’re not. Open it!”
I do, and am greeted with a sleek logo and an email that’s a few short lines. The person emailing, a guy named Chance Montgomery—with the initials CEO attached to his name—has seen my blog and thinks he might have a position for me at his company called Heart Makers. Is there any way for me to come in sometime today to speak with him about it?
“Is this for real?”
Alice reads over my shoulder, her jaw dropping open. “I think it is. What the hell is Heart Makers?”
I open up an internet tab and run a search. Heart Markers search results explode across my screen, with news stories piling up at the top. I get the gist pretty quickly. Heart Makers is the new matchmaker on the block and they’re shaking things up with the way they work. They’re young, fashionable, and the best place to go if you’re single in New York City.
“Oh my God.” My fingers are on the keys before I can even register that I’m replying. Yes, I am so interested. I hit send having barely proofread it, and I’m sure that I have typos that make me look like an idiot but I can’t even care. A job offer. A job offer. I mean, I have no idea what I would do working for a matchmaker, but I didn’t even realize how hopeless I’d become until this showed up in my mailbox.
“You’re going to go?”
“Of course I’m going to go,” I say. “I need a job. I can’t keep bumming on your couch for the rest of my life even if you’d let me.”
She grins. “This is so exciting! I really hope it works out. You have to tell me everything when you come home tonight, okay?”
“Deal.”
“I’ve got to run.” She pours the rest of her coffee into a to-go cup. “Raid my closet, take what you need, make sure you look fabulous.” And just like that, she’s out the door, Noodle looking after her mournfully.
My computer dings again, and it’s a reply.
Can you be here in an hour?
I look at the address. It’ll be a stretch, but I think I can make it. I type back an enthusiastic yes and sprint into Alice’s room. I’m not sure how I manage, but I get ready faster than I ever have in my life. Thank God I showered last night. At least I don’t have to waste time washing and drying my hair.
Barely twenty minutes later, I’m locking the apartment behind me, trying to walk to the subway as fast as I can in Alice’s borrowed pencil skirt and heels. I have my own clothes, but none of them are new, and the few nice things I have that are appropriate for an interview are better suited for things like the bank or an upscale retail job. Not a matchmaker with an office in a downtown high rise.