15
The following week, my palms are damp and I swear the skin behind my knees is sweating as I sit in a chair in the fancy waiting area of Jasper and his partner’s business. The phone hasn’t rung once since I’ve walked in. No one else has gotten off the elevator and no one looks like they’ve poured a cup of coffee from the area set up with a mini-fridge in the waiting room. It’s a virtual ghost town.
I glance at my portfolio, wanting to open it up to make sure I have everything I need, but I must have done that ten times before I left my apartment this morning. Besides, I’d probably open it up just as Mr. Ashland walks out. So, in the meantime, my toes tap on the hardwood floor while the receptionist, Brittany, keeps peeking her head over the edge of the desk, clearly annoyed by my tappi
