Page 72 of Making It While Faking It

Anyway, Herc is in Vegas too. Everybody’s in Vegas except me. That’s why I’ve been calling Lilah nonstop. I need her to work this weekend, with me, as my date. I think it’s a good deal—a date in Vegas with me and…

“Orion,” Cab, one of the tech guys, says as he enters my office and tells me, using computer jargon, what went wrong with the servers.

I rise from sitting on the edge of my desk. This is almost over. I have a date tonight with Penny or Patricia. As far as the wedding goes, I asked Penelope if she wanted to be my date, but she told me to go to hell and hung up in my face. Ever since the night we crashed Achilles’s andherdate, Pen’s been blowing dragon fire at me.

I lied to her—okay. I sent her flowers and an apology that I really meant. Well… Lilah sent the flowers and wrote the apology.

Where the hell is she?

I point at Lilah’s computer sitting on top of her desk outside my office. “I just need to get into that computer over there.”

Cab grins as if he’s the happiest guy in the world. “Go for it. It’s all up and running.”

I will know exactly who I have a date with tonight once I’m on Lilah’s computer. She worked late last night, and the computers went down before she was able to push my updated calendar to my server.

“Should I stand by just in case there’s a problem?” Cab asks.

“Sure,” I say. Why not.

I type inYYYHMAHLE123. That’s her password. I know it because she wrote it on a sticky that I confiscated.

But for some reason, I’m reading her password differently today.Why him?

I’m in, and a Word document pops up.

It’s a…

Dear Orion Lord, (You fucking narcissist—remember to delete)

A day comes when an overqualified assistant becomes tired of picking up your laundry, managing your many girlfriends, lying to them, acting as your personal alarm clock, and a new low, even for you, Mr. Lord, bringing you a cold bottle of water at the end of your run. You run? When did you start running?

Never mind.

Oh… I almost forgot, having me stalk your brother and his fiancée that was not your finest moment and actually lower than the water thing. (Delete—maybe.)

The point is, yes, the money is excellent, but you are not (Remember to revise). I quit. This is my two-weeks’ notice.

Not Even Sincerely, (Remember to delete)

Delilah O’Shay

My jaw drops. “What the hell did I just read.”

“Is everything okay, Orion?” Cab asks.

I rub the side of my face, trying to finish absorbing what I just read. “No, Cab. Everything is definitely not okay.”