media before logging into my email. Right there, at the top of the feed, was an email that made my breath catch. It was from Gina Moretti. That was fast , I thought as I clicked on her name.
From: Gina Moretti
Subject: Compensation Package
Samantha,
Thank you for coming up to visit me today. As we discussed, I have attached a document with the terms of the project. I hope you will consider the offer. I think we’d make a great team, and the project should be a lot of fun.
Regards,
Gina Moretti
PS: Finn says hi.
I opened the attachment. It was a long document, full of legal speak. I scrolled down, scanning until my eye stopped.
Employee agrees to make themselves available for extensive travel, both foreign and domestic. All travel expenses, including but not limited to housing, meals, incidentals, expenses and travel cost proper will be covered by the employer.
Travel will be extensive, and may constitute up to 90% of the employee’s work time.
I sat back and re-read that portion. Lots of women might have been thrilled by those sentences. Free international travel? I hadn’t ever been east of the Mississippi, let alone a foreign country. But I wasn’t excited. Instead, there was a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I ran a gamut of emotion in a few seconds. First, there was worry: there was no way this would fly with David. Then I got mad at myself for even letting his feelings cloud my judgment. Finally, a split second later I admitted it: I, too, hated it when we were apart. I read on.
I came to the Paragraph G: Compensation. I read it and then re-read it again. There was no way this was right. This was more than three times what I was making at the gallery. Sure, the gallery paid practically peanuts, but Gina was offering more than any of my other recently graduated friends were making. I stared at the screen in a daze.
The soft buzz of my phone brought me back out of the fog. It was Carrie, asking about tonight. We had planned to get drinks. I was more than pleased at the timing. I needed to talk this over with someone other than David.
Still on for tonight?
Yes, definitely. I need some advice.
Everything ok?
Yes… Don’t worry, it can wait.
Ok, meet you at the Kerry House at six?
Sounds good. See you there.
I put my phone down and re-read the contract. It was a great offer. An offer that five months ago I would have jumped at. But now, I wasn’t so sure.
7
Elliot dropped me off outside the Kerry House promptly at six. Inside, I scanned for Carrie and didn’t see her. The Kerry House was a dimly lit Irish bar with a convivial atmosphere and a wide selection of beers on tap. The place was pretty full for six o’clock on a Tuesday. I grabbed the last two seats at the bar. As I pulled up on one, I left my bag and jacket on the other, saving a seat for Carrie. I glanced over at the bartender and he came over. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a kind face.
“What can I get for you, miss?” he said with an Irish accent.
“Jack and ginger, please.”
“Coming right up. And I’ll need to see your ID.”
I was fishing my wallet out of my bag when Carrie came up behind me.
“Sammie! Hey!”
“Hey Carrie!” We reached out and hugged each other. “It’s so good to see you.” It was. Back when we were in school, Carrie and I spent every spare moment together. But now that we both had jobs, it was harder and harder to find time to get together. Carrie and I had met in a sociology class at UC Berkeley. We were majoring in the same subject at the time. Since graduation, she’d taken a job at a clinic in Berkeley.
“I know. This grown-up life thing is rough, right?” she said, smiling.
The bartender returned with my drink, and I flashed him my ID.
“And what can I get for you?” he asked, beaming at Carrie. She always managed to turn heads; her blond, all-American good looks appealing to men both near and far.
“Jack and ginger, please.”
He nodded and turned around