Page 28

I hang up and try to place her. She’s not someone I recognize. Is she a customer?
I paint a bright smile over my face and gesture to the door. “Were you looking for the bathroom? You took a wrong turn, hun. The john’s straight down there. First door to the left.”
“I’m not a customer,” she says, fingers tightening on her binder. “I’m your assistant.”
My jaw drops. “I’m sorry.What?”
“I don’t have your full schedule for the day, but I was told I’d receive that later. For now, the most important task is…” She taps her phone. “Regan. She’ll be out of school soon. The car is waiting on the curb.” The woman uses both hands to motion outside. “After you.”
There is so much I need to unpack from this brief conversation, but all I can do is blink and repeat myself.
“I’m sorry.What?”
The stranger checks her watch. “We really need to go.”
“Who are you again?”
“Your—”
“I meant what’s your name.”
“Oh.” She offers a hand. “Amy.”
“Well, Amy,” I take the hand and shake it, “I don’t remember hiring an assistant. There must be some mistake.”
“You don’t have to think of me as your assistant. I can be a driver, a cook, a secretary. All the things. I was hired to perform whatever tasks you need.” Pink steals over her cheeks. “Unfortunately, I can’t help you braid, but I saw outside that you have several technicians who could fulfil that duty.”
My eyebrows cinch together.
She misinterprets the expression and holds up both hands as if I’m a cop with a gun aimed at her. “Not that braiding is ‘beneath me’ or anything. I actually find it really fascinating how you guys do that.” She blushes another shade of red. “And I don’t mean ‘you guys’ as in… I mean, I’m not trying to ‘other’ anyone. I meant you braiders. Hair stylists?”
“Baby, I’m going to need you to take in a deep breath and let it out, okay?”
She inhales so hard I’m afraid she’ll swallow the sweater vest under her suit jacket. When she lets it out, she still seems a little wound up.
“I’m sorry.” Amy shakes out her arms at her sides and licks her lips. “Mr. Bolton hired me personally and I really don’t want to mess this up.”
“Bolton hired you… without telling me?”
“Well,” her mouth forms a small ‘o’ and I can see her trying to gauge my anger level, “I’m not aware of what arrangement Mr. Bolton made with you. Maybe he forgot—”
Forgot, my black backside. “Give me a second, hun.”
I turn, shoot for my purse and dig into the contents until I find the business card that Bolton left with me. On the back is his personal number, just in case I need to reach him and discuss something about Regan.
The line rings only once before he answers.
“I hope you’re on your way to the kindergarten, Miss Hayes.” The sound of grunting men is loud behind him. Is he leading some kind of sports event? “Regan’s school finishes at noon.”
“Did you hire an assistant for me?” I hiss.
“I did.”
He sounds so smug.
I want to set his perfect body on fire.
“Babysitting my daughter will rip you away from work for at least five hours. I don’t want you distracted or worried about anything else but Regan. Amy was the most brilliant of our interns. She will be useful.”