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“She won’t want to work here, Lili,” I state.
Wouldn’t have wanted tobeforeSaturday night, and I’m positive my ability to make her orgasm in less than a minute isn’t going to esteem me as an employer in Collins’s opinion.
“That’s not what she told me.”
My eyebrows rise, betraying my surprise. There’s an accompanying pang of concern. Collins must be near desperate, then, and she didn’t say a damn word to me. I could have gotten her a job—not here—anywhere in this city in a matter of minutes.
“You won’t find a better assistant in there.” Lili gives the stack of résumés on my desk a dismissive glance.
“I wasn’t questioning her qualifications.”
My sister perks up, sensing victory. “Meaning the job is hers?”
“If she wants it.”
She won’t.
4
Iflop back down on my mattress in a sprawled, starfish position. It’s lumpy in two spots, but I’m too tired and hungover to care.
On the way home from yesterday’s interview, I celebrated possible employment by picking up sushi and buying a cheap bottle of wine. One—or both—disagreed with my stomach. I vomited twice overnight and still feel nauseous.
My phone begins buzzing on the wooden wine crate I found for free at a liquor store in Dumbo and repurposed as my bedside table. I groan, strongly consider not answering, then lift my head justhigh enough to read who’s calling.
It’s Lili.
We met up for dinner a couple of nights ago. I’d texted her on Monday, finally letting her know I was in New York. It turned out, she was in London—something Kit hadnotmentioned for some reason—but about to return home. We’d made plans to get together once she was back in the city. During our dinner, I copped to my current unemployment, so I texted her on my way home yesterday, letting her know my interview went well. She’s probably calling for more details.
I grab my phone, roll over in bed, and answer. “Hey,” I rasp.
“Hi!” Unlike mine, Lili’s voice is cheery and clear. “Fun night?”
“Not exactly.” I rub at my gritty eyes with my free hand. “I think I have food poisoning.”
“Oh no!” Her bright tone instantly transforms to sympathetic. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m good. Thanks. Starting to feel a little better.”
“Well, this should cheer you up even more—you’re employed!”
“Wait, what? It was just an interview, Lili, not?—”
She laughs. “I know. I’m talking about another job—at Kensington Consolidated. You start on Monday! Assuming you’re feeling up to it, of course. If you’re still sick, I’m sure you can start a few days later.”
When Lili found out I was job-hunting, she said she’d check if her family’s company was hiring. I didn’t dissuade her. Because it seemed rude to turn down her help and because I was in no position to. But I figured she’d pass along an email address for me to send my résumé to, not get me hired in under forty-eight hours.
“Wow. Uh, Monday? That’s … soon.”
“I know. I know. But Kit really needs an assistant immediately.”
My brain zooms in on the second three-letter word at a speed thatresults in immediate motion sickness. And that wreaks havoc on my unsettled stomach.
It feels like the lumpy mattress beneath me has been replaced by sand. Like I’m sinking slowly with nothing to grasp on to except for grains.
“The job is with Kit?” My voice sounds tinny, like I’m hearing it echo through a distant speaker.
“Yes, as his personal assistant. Between that and his fancy corner office, his ego will barely fit in the building soon.” Lili giggles. “I know it’s not your dream job, but it’ll open up other opportunities. My uncle is always complaining about how other companies love poaching from Kensington Consolidated. Stick it out for a year or even just six months, and you’ll have your pick of working at tons of places. And it pays well.”