The Lost Girls Read Free Page B

we tossed out for settling here.
    â€œWell, I hadn’t mentioned this to you yet, Hol, but Jen knows my plan. If I ever get promoted to associate editor, I’m gonna start socking away money, quit the magazine a year later, and take a few months off to travel,” Amanda said, brightening at the thought. “I’d invited Jen to come with me—but how much fun would it be if you came, too? It’d be just like this week—only infinitely more awesome.”
    â€œOh, man, I am totally gonna rat you out to your boss,” Holly joked, uncrossing her legs and swinging them over the side of the bench. “Actually, I have a secret too. I’ve been interviewing for jobs, and one of the magazines already asked me for references, so I’ll probably be gone before you are. If you do leave to travel…well, maybe I’ll come for part of the time.”
    Despite what I’d learned about Holly, I was still shocked. “Are you serious? Would you actually come with us, Holly?”
    â€œWould you really come with me?” Amanda said, now staring at me intently.
    â€œOh, please! You love your job more than life itself. You would never abandon it or New York,” I said, tormenting her as only a true best friend could. “But I triple dog dare you to quit because it’d be nice if you graced us with your presence at social events again.”
    â€œOkay, so I’m not sure exactly when I would leave or for how long, but it makes me feel better to have an emergency escape route mapped out, just in case,” Amanda shot back, grabbing her pack from the bench and walking over to the railing to get a better view of the sinking sun. “It’s either move up or move on, right?”
    Although I’d witnessed her frenetic race up the razor-sharp publishing ladder firsthand, I also knew that if Amanda Pressner committed to doing something, nothing would stand in her way—or woe to the innocent bystander who did. For starters, she was the only one out of five of my college friends who hadn’t bailed on our postgrad Europe trip. She’d said she was moving to Manhattan afterward to work in entertainment, and she had, all by herself, with no help or nepotistic connections. When everyone had told her it was impossible to get an editorial position at a magazine without being published first, she’d given them the mental middle finger and done it anyway. So if Amanda said she was going to leave to take a trip in the future, I had no doubt that she would.
    â€œYou know what? Unless something drastically changes in my life by the time you’re ready to leave, I’ll nominate myself as your partner in crime,” I announced.
    As I spoke, I realized I was serious. For some reason, this particular trip to Argentina had intensified my itch to escapemy New York reality more than ever. And if things didn’t get better with Brian, I might feel the need to flee the city anyway.
    From the safety of another continent, the idea of leaving everything familiar behind to live like nomads seemed almost possible. If all of our promotions and job transitions happened as planned, we’d have about eighteen months to save—and we could stretch out a trip budget for almost a year if we stuck to cheaper countries. With that much time, we could cross several continents and maybe pick up odd jobs along the way (“My friend made ten dollars a day picking fruit on a farm in Costa Rica,” Holly tossed out) or volunteer with an organization in exchange for lodging (“I could secure some freelance assignments,” Amanda added). And hopefully by then we’d be at a point in our professional lives where we could leave without totally committing career suicide.
    â€œAnd we’re all turning twenty-eight next year, which is the phase of our lives called Saturn Return,” said Holly said, hastening to add, “It’s an astrological thing—I used