Lexi Thompson was tired of surviving.
Her calendar was a graveyard of disasters: an overbooked baby shower that turned into a shouting match between grandmothers, a rooftop proposal where the "yes" was immediately followed by a breakup, and last week—a birthday bash that ended with the cake being launched at a chandelier. Literally. Frosting had rained from the ceiling like an edible apocalypse.
And through it all, Lexi had smiled, improvised, and cleaned up after chaos like it was her destiny. Like the universe had personally assigned her the role of crisis manager to the most dramatic humans on earth.
Sitting cross-legged on her twin mattress—because her bedframe had snapped two months ago and she hadn't bothered to replace it—Lexi scrolled through her bank app. Her rent was due in four days, her checking account had less than $200, and the landlord had stopped pretending to be patient. She was one late payment away from sleeping in her cousin's cramped laundry room.
Her thumb hovered over the "Pay Now" button. She sighed and backed out. Not yet. Not until something changed. Something had to change.
A ping from her phone lit up the cracked screen.
Cousin Chloe:
Another client wants to "expose" you on Instagram for ruining their engagement picnic.
Apparently the doves flew away too soon and the champagne was too warm.
Lexi groaned and flopped onto her back.
"I told them birds aren't robots," she muttered to the ceiling. "And champagne loses chill in the sun, that's just… physics."
She tossed the phone aside and sat up, her laptop already open to her browser with a dozen tabs for event companies. Her résumé wasn't perfect—more chaotic than chronological—but she had talent. What she lacked in polish, she made up for with ideas and raw drive. Creativity didn't need a gold frame—it just needed a chance.
"I just need one place to see that," she whispered to herself, eyes scanning the listings like a hunter looking for prey.
Then she saw it.
Blackwood Signature Events – Now Hiring Junior Event Coordinator
Her heart skipped.
Everyone in the industry knew the name. Sleek. Elite. Legendary. They only took the best. Lexi clicked the link before self-doubt could catch up. Before that little voice in her head could remind her that she was unqualified, messy, and barely holding it together.
The application was intense. Portfolios. References. A video pitch. It looked like something meant to weed out people exactly like her.
"Okay," she breathed. "Let's fake it till we make it."
By midnight, Lexi had built a portfolio site using free Canva templates, stitched together testimonials from every semi-sane past client she could think of, and filmed a one-minute pitch from her bathroom mirror. She stacked boxes for her phone, used a shower curtain as a backdrop, and lit the scene with a desk lamp taped to the wall.
She ended it with a wink. "I may not have walked your carpet yet, but I've rolled out enough to know which ones sparkle. Hire me, and I'll make sure your events don't just shine—they ignite."
She sent it before she could second-guess herself, then fell asleep still holding her laptop like it might float her to safety.
Morning came with the sound of a neighbor's argument through the paper-thin walls and the aggressive honk of a delivery truck below. Lexi blinked at the screen still resting on her stomach. No new emails. No calls.
Nothing.
She groaned and rolled to the side, hugging a pillow like it might squeeze her back together. For a moment, she wondered if applying had been a mistake. Maybe dreaming big wasn't for people like her.
Half an hour later, she dragged herself out of bed and into the shower. As lukewarm water dribbled down her back, she rehearsed imaginary interviews in her head.
"What's your biggest strength?"
"Turning disaster into a photo op."
"And your biggest weakness?"
"I'm addicted to caffeine and chaos."
She snorted to herself and stepped out.
It was nearing noon when her phone buzzed again.
Blackwood Signature Events:
Thank you for applying. We'd like to schedule a brief interview.
Lexi screamed.
It was a full-body, high-pitched, "am I dreaming" scream that sent her cat darting under the bed. She reread the message three times to make sure it wasn't spam. It wasn't.
She leapt into action.
Jeans. Top. Hair—half-tamed. She cleaned the background of her room for the video call, pushing laundry just out of frame. The email had a link and a time—1 PM. That gave her forty minutes to transform into someone who looked like they belonged in a sleek, glass-walled office instead of a peeling shoebox apartment.
At exactly 12:59, she clicked the link.
A woman appeared on-screen with tight curls, tortoiseshell glasses, and a clipped accent. "Alexis Thompson?"
"Yes! I mean—yes," Lexi replied, breathless.
The woman offered a polite nod. "I'm Clara from the Blackwood Signature hiring team. We reviewed your submission. Very... spirited."
Lexi blinked. "Spirited's good, right?"
Clara gave a small smile. "We value creativity. Tell me, what's the wildest event you've ever salvaged?"
Lexi didn't hesitate. "An anniversary dinner where the husband passed out drunk and the wife threw shrimp cocktails at him. I turned the lights down, cranked up the music, and told everyone it was a surprise dance break. We ended with a conga line."
Clara's brow lifted. "Impressive improvisation."
"I thrive in madness," Lexi said, then winced. "Not that your events are mad—I just mean, I stay calm when others don't."
"Good to know," Clara said, making a note. "Last question—why Blackwood?"
Lexi hesitated. Then, truthfully: "Because it's the best. And I'm tired of chaos that doesn't mean anything. I want to work somewhere where excellence is expected, where beauty has purpose."
Clara nodded slowly. "We'll be in touch."
The screen went dark.
Lexi stared at her reflection. "What just happened?"
Two hours passed. Then three.
She was halfway through stress-eating cold pizza when her phone buzzed again.
Blackwood Signature Events:
Congratulations. You've made it to the next round. Welcome to Blackwood.
Lexi froze.
Then she screamed again.
Only this time, it wasn't out of fear.
It was victory.