The Dallas Women's Guide to Gold-Digging with Pride by Jennifer Ross

Author:Jennifer Ross [Conklin, J. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-48351-5
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2007-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Don’t Judge a Surgeon by His Lobby

Iarrive back in Dallas at nine a.m. I’ll be a little late to the office but not horribly so, considering I’m commuting from Oklahoma. As soon as I get off the plane I check my cell phone. I have nine missed calls and eleven text messages. Has Carol gone off the deep end? Whenever my boss can’t get ahold of me right away, she has an annoying habit of calling my number obsessively every thirty seconds until I answer. She must be convinced that I can see her calling all those times but am choosing not to pick up. I check my voice mail. Every one of them is from Lizzy begging me to come over to her house as soon as possible. She’s sobbing. The text messages are also all from her, imploring me to drive to her house. Maybe she found out about Hoss cheating on her.

In the past few months, I’ve gotten to know Lizzy pretty well. We talk on the phone or text each other every day and of course she’s at all the functions Aimee and I attend. She gets my sarcasm and I get her understated commentary of people. We click. Still I’m surprised that she’s calling me out of all the lifelong friends and sorority sisters she could be calling. Though she might have called them, too. I could be invited to a massive support-Lizzy party. When I drive my car out of airport parking I head over to her house, the opposite direction from work. I call Carol’s phone and leave a message about an emergency. I say I’ll be in a little later. After last night’s missed plane and this morning’s detour, I know I’m going to have to endure a lot of yelling and lecturing from my boss about how important the news is, meaning nothing in my meaningless little life can compare to getting an earnings report in on time or being in the office for a minimum of ten hours a day.

Don’t get me wrong, work is important to me, very important to me. I’ve spent the last four years grinding away at climbing up the corporate ladder. Most Saturdays I’m at the office. Most Sundays, too. I usually don’t leave during the week until seven. I’ve struggled to write long stories that the editors in New York will notice. Usually, I get about four through Carol a year. It’s just lately with the criticism from Carol that I’ve gotten tired of all the effort. Along with giving up on Rafe, I think I might be giving up on my career, or at least putting it into neutral.

I pull my Honda around to the back of Lizzy’s house, where the help park. I pull in between a Lexus and a shiny new Prius. The staff have nicer cars than I do. I walk to the kitchen door. Lizzy opens it for me. Her hair is scrapped into a ponytail. Her face is tear-stained and puffy.

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