So, Thin Ice has come to an end. And yes, I am using the epilogue chapter and anxiousness of you wanting to know "what happens next", to promote my own ideas and opinions. Well really, I'm just here to thank you for reading this book.
But also, what the hell are you doing with your time? I mean, seriously. Ok, ok. I won't judge. Speaking of judging, I'm actually very surprised at the amount of hate that Rosie gets. Like shit man, thank god y'all don't know me because I'd be getting roasted like a marshmallow.
I did make her have negative qualities for a reason, because to me, and maybe you, she's a real person. And like most of us have (unfortunately) come to know, nobody is perfect. We all have our faults and the things that irritate the hell out of the people around us.
But, as I'm realizing that this little blurb is getting long and in the era of Tik Tok and people actually spending time memorizing dances to post online, I'm fairly certain I've already lost you.
In the event I haven't, or maybe you are some top executive at a fortune 500 company and you have your assistant read all the stuff you're supposed to - including determining whether or not a chapter contains smut (which let's be honest, is the first question anyone asks when they start reading a book), I will try to keep this short and to the point.
The point having definitely gotten lost a long time ago. If you find it, let me know. In other news, Thin Ice is yes, over. finnito. fini. There will be one more book for the Power Play series. But it will be a couple months before I start posting chapters for it. Mostly because I haven't started writing them yet.
So, if you do have any feedback, suggestions, or comments for the next (and final) book, let me know. If they include Rosie not being awkward, then I'm sorry, but we're closed.
Happy reading! (I swear I'm not a middle school English teacher. I also didn't spell check or read back anything I just wrote so if there are any mistakes, I'm already being burned at the stake tomorrow.
- amariawriting (Side note, but I wish I could sign this James, James Bond. With the dramatic English accent for effect).
- 3 Months Later -
On the last day of my internship, I have a meeting scheduled for 2:00pm with Danielle and Oscar. It's just before the end of the day - given that it's a Friday, and I spend the day packing up my stuff and sorting out whatever remaining files I have pending.
It's more of a formality than anything else, as when I leave the office at 2:07pm today - or however long this meeting that doesn't actually feel like a meeting because it's just two steps away from where I sit, takes, I'll have a full-time job. All the hard work, long hours, and scanning papers with layers of dusted coated onto them, will finally have paid off.
It doesn't stop me from feeling nervous, though. But the closer to the time it gets, the less nervous and more excited I become. It feels like my sentiments of not being able to both have a relationship and a flourishing career, were all just built up in my head.
Granted, that relationship is being engaged to one of the players on the team - but if that were really an issue, if my personal life or previous life, was an issue, then they wouldn't have made all those comments about wanting to keep me around.
They wouldn't have practically signed, sealed, and delivered me, a job offer with the organization. The only outstanding paperwork being when they actually offer it to me, this afternoon.
"Ready?" Danielle asks, coming out of Oscar's office, a few minutes after our meeting time. I know that things run late and people certainly aren't going to be apologizing for keeping an intern waiting, but the only reason it bothers me is because it means more time having to spend shaking my leg.
I practically jump out of my chair, all but clumsily knocking everything to the ground on the way there. Our other office mates have left for the day (shocker), leaving just Oscar, Danielle, and I. Well, Oscar, Danielle, my anxiety, and I.
Oscar's office is cluttered at best, a hoarder's confine at worst. There's paper everywhere but my ass crack and his guest chairs are old seats that were replaced from the stadium seating. There's photos of his family, drawings from his daughter, and a few diplomas and certificates from courses he's done.
And despite having worked for him for almost a year, the only time I've spent in here was when I was organizing his employee files and when I had my mid-point check-in for my internship. It hasn't changed much.
"So, last day. How you feeling?" He asks, focusing on me in his usual FBI investigator way as Danielle closes the door. Given that the number of visitors he has is the same as the number of sexual partners I've had, he doesn't get much action; so, the door has a bunch of crap hanging from the handle.
"Good." I answer, a little too quickly, but at this point if they haven't figured out that I'm socially awkward, then I don't think they ever will. "I'm feeling good." I answer, clasping my hands together on my lap to keep from cracking my fingers.
He nods, not blinking. "Good." He glances down at a paper on his desk, which I suspect is my offer letter.
There's this thing he does, though, a moment later, that confuses me. He exchanges a look with Danielle - and rather than it being one where they're about to tell me something of semi good news quality, it reads something different. Something I don't expect. Something I'm not prepared for.
"Well, on behalf of the Portland Pirates Organization, I wanted to extend my appreciation for everything you've done for us. We've certainly appreciated your help in the marketing department for the past few months." He looks down at the paper, at the clock, anywhere but at me.
Danielle, as usual being the only one with a set of balls in the department, takes over. "We've taken the liberty of writing a letter of recommendation for you. And if you want to use either Oscar or I as references, we'd be happy to." She picks up a gift bag from the dollar store that's been sitting on the floor. "And the team got you a little something."
I stare at the bag, my mind more occupied with the words than whatever Dollarama card they've gotten me. "Thanks." I say after a minute, half-heartedly looking through it to find a card that's been signed by the entire department and a few bags of candy that I don't like.
"Do you have any questions for us, or any suggestions for improvements?" Oscar asks, looking at the clock and deciding that it's been long enough to end the meeting. Everything they've needed to say, apparently had already been.
I contemplate not saying anything. But I've spent enough moments in my life, frozen in time and fear, to know that you don't always get an opportunity for a second chance. So, with a shaky voice that cracks in the middle, I say. "I was, j-just wondering if you'd decided about the coordinator position?" You know, the job that was supposed to be mine?
He exchanges a look with Danielle, making it clear that the two had talked about this beforehand. "Yes, well. The hiring team decided to go in a different direction." He explains, glancing at the engagement ring on my finger so briefly that anyone else wouldn't notice, but I do.