Chapter 1

Ava

The Venice Beach boardwalk stretches ahead, a kaleidoscope of street performers, skaters, and palm trees swaying against a pale blue sky. I take a long sip of my acai smoothie, relishing the cold sweetness against my throat. January in LA means seventy degrees instead of eighty, a fact that never stops amusing me when my family back East sends photos of snow drifts.

"Girl, you cannot keep working there." Bianca adjusts her oversized sunglasses, her chunky gold hoops catching the sunlight. "You look exhausted."

I huff out a breath, watching a guy with a snake wrapped around his shoulders pose for tourist photos. "It's not that bad."

"Liar."

"Okay, it's terrible." The admission feels like releasing a pressure valve. "My boss takes credit for all my campaigns. The team treats me like I'm there to fetch coffee. And they keep piling on work without any recognition or, you know, actual compensation that reflects what I do."

"That's toxic as hell." Bianca links her arm through mine as we navigate around a circle of drummers. "You're too talented to be dealing with that shit."

"Yeah, but jobs don't exactly grow on trees. Especially good ones."

"Actually..." Bianca draws out the word, and I recognize that tone. She's about to propose something. "I might know of something."

I stop walking, forcing her to halt beside me. "What kind of something?"

"There's this tech CEO I met at a networking thing last month. Jeffrey Anderson. His company's growing fast, but their social media presence is practically nonexistent. He mentioned needing someone to overhaul their branding, handle their advertising strategy, the whole nine yards."

My stomach does a weird flip. Interest, maybe. Or fear. "Tech startups can be just as bad. Sometimes worse."

"This isn't some bro-fest startup in someone's garage." Bianca tugs me forward again, her platform sandals clacking against the boardwalk. "It's an established company. They're doing well, making real money, but they need someone with vision to help them scale their brand presence."

"And you think I'd be a good fit?"

"Are you kidding? You're exactly what they need. You're creative, you understand audience engagement, and you actually give a damn about the work instead of just phoning it in."

I take another sip of smoothie, buying time. The idea tempts me more than I want to admit. A fresh start. A place where people might actually value what I bring to the table.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch." Bianca's perfectly arched brows rise above her sunglasses. "Okay, maybe it's not your typical corporate environment. Jeffrey's young, he wants to disrupt the industry, all that startup energy. But from what I could tell, he seems legit. Smart. Actually interested in building something sustainable."

We pass a vendor selling handmade jewelry, the silver pieces glinting in the sun. I've always been terrible at making big decisions. Analysis paralysis, my mom calls it.

"I don't know..."

"What's there to know? You're miserable now. At least explore the option."

"What if it's worse?"

"What if it's better?" Bianca counters. "What if it's exactly what you've been waiting for?"

A gust of wind whips my curls across my face, and I push them back, securing a few strands behind my ear. The ocean stretches endlessly to our left, waves rolling in with hypnotic regularity.

"How would this even work?"

"I can set up an informal coffee meeting. Nothing intense, just you and Jeffrey talking, feeling each other out. See if there's mutual interest." Bianca's grin turns mischievous. "Plus, he's hot. I'm just saying."

"I'm not looking for hot. I'm looking for employed."

"You can have both."

I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling despite myself. "This is insane. I don't even know what the company does."

"They develop software solutions for mid-sized businesses. Inventory management, customer relationship tools, that kind of thing. Not sexy, but profitable." Bianca navigates us toward a bench, and we sit, facing the ocean. "They've got about fifty employees now, trying to expand their client base beyond California."

"And their social media is bad?"

"Practically invisible. Their Instagram has like two hundred followers, all of them probably employees and their moms. Their last post was six months ago."

I wince. "That's rough."

"Which is why they need you."

The thing is, I'm good at what I do. I know I'm good. I've grown accounts from nothing to hundreds of thousands of engaged followers. I've created campaigns that went viral, that drove actual revenue. But at my current job, none of that matters. I'm invisible, just like Jeffrey's company's Instagram.

"What if I interview and they don't want me?"

"Then you're in the exact same position you're in now. But what if they do want you?" Bianca nudges my shoulder. "What if this is the opportunity you've been praying for?"

I watch a skateboarder execute a perfect trick, wheels clattering against concrete. There's something about the way he commits fully to the motion, no hesitation.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Set up the coffee thing." My heart hammers even as I say it. "You're right. There's nothing to lose."

Bianca squeals, actually squeals, and throws her arms around me. "Yes! Oh my God, you're going to crush this. Jeffrey's going to love you."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's just coffee."

"Just coffee that could change your life."

I laugh, but nerves flutter in my chest. "No pressure or anything."

"I'm texting him right now." Bianca pulls out her phone, thumbs flying across the screen. "What days are you free this week?"

"Um, I could do Wednesday afternoon? I've got volunteer hours in the morning, but I'm clear after two."

"Perfect. Let me suggest that." She pauses, reading. "He's responding... and yes! He can do Wednesday at three. There's a coffee place near his office in Santa Monica. I'll send you the address."

My phone buzzes a moment later with the details. Suddenly this feels very real.

"What do I wear?"

"Something that says 'I'm creative and professional and you'd be an idiot not to hire me.'" Bianca tucks her phone away. "But also comfortable. You want to feel like yourself."

"So not the corporate suit I wore to my last interview."

"God, no. Be you. That's your strength."

We finish our smoothies in companionable silence, watching the endless parade of humanity that makes Venice Beach what it is. Street artists, fitness enthusiasts, tourists, locals. Everyone chasing something.

"Thank you," I say finally. "For pushing me. I would've just stayed stuck."

"That's what friends are for. Plus, I believe in you, even when you don't believe in yourself." Bianca stands, brushing sand from her jeans. "Come on. Let's walk to the canals. I need to show you this insane house I saw last week."

I follow her, but my mind's already racing ahead to Wednesday. What questions will Jeffrey ask? What should I prepare? How do I convey confidence without arrogance, creativity without chaos?

"Stop overthinking," Bianca says without looking back.

"I'm not overthinking."

"You're doing that thing where you chew your bottom lip. You always do that when you're spiraling."

Caught, I release my lip. "I just want to make a good impression."

"You will. Just be yourself. Talk about your work, your vision, what you're passionate about. That's when you're most magnetic."

We turn off the boardwalk, heading toward the quieter canal paths. The water reflects the sky, still and serene. A blue heron stands motionless on someone's dock.

"What if being myself isn't enough?"

Bianca stops, turns to face me fully. "Ava. Listen to me. Being yourself is always enough. And if it's not enough for them, then they're not the right fit. But I have a feeling about this one."

"A feeling?"

"A good feeling. Like this is meant to happen."

I want to believe her. Maybe I do believe her, just a little bit. Enough to show up on Wednesday. Enough to try.

"Okay. I'm trusting you on this."

"Trust yourself." Bianca links arms with me again. "I'm just the messenger. You're the one with the magic."